


The Hearts of Men, Monsters, and Dragons

by ComposerofDiscord, SDSlanderson



Category: Justice League: Gods and Monsters (2015)
Genre: Angst, Battle Scenes, Cancer (lymphoma), Depressive Thoughts, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language (but not excessive), Explicit Sexual Content, Fanart, First Meetings, Georgian Period (early 1700s), I made them have sex this time okay, I swear a good third of this fic is happy, M/M, Religious Elements, Slow Burn, Tragedy, War, War Crimes, a little butchering of history, but there's a dragon so it's bound to be different, contains fan arts, depicted body wounds, implied nonconsensual experimentation, mythical creatures AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-02 22:30:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 62,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14554923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComposerofDiscord/pseuds/ComposerofDiscord, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SDSlanderson/pseuds/SDSlanderson
Summary: "There are many tales of where dragons come from. Some say they come from a faraway moon, ominously glowing with the life of eternal fire. Some say they are born from dying stars, or the heart of a volcano, but there is one myth that has yet to be revealed: a dragon born with the heart of a man who loved deeply and truly one vampire.”Every dispute man should find themselves in is born from their own greed. Therefore this war Hernan is recruited for should be no different. Yet on a cold night, when he had seen enough death for one day, he takes pity on a wounded bat and decides to take it with him.(Mythical Creatures AU; please heed the warnings)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: So unlike the other SRBs, this is a tandem team effort, meaning I did not have a physical art piece to look at, but I nonetheless got major points of what SDS wanted to make in her art piece(s) and I formed the story around those parts. This is a collaboration of ideas that have resulted in wonderful art and a story based on the art pieces being made.
> 
> I want to give a huge thanks to my wonderful artist and friend, [SDSlanderson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SDSlanderson/pseuds/SDSlanderson). You have supported me in so many ways I can't even think of how to thank you. This piece doesn't even come close to how thankful I am to have met you, but I nonetheless hope this piece is something you can always look back upon fondly.
> 
> I'd also like to thank the SRB chat for all the help, support, and motivation you've given me throughout the whole writing process. I'm sorry for all the crying, and nagging, and all the lamenting of words counts you had put up with from me, but all of you have really helped me so much - words can't even begin to describe how grateful I am to have met and talked with all of you. I really hope this lives up to your expectations. 
> 
> Finally, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much to everyone who has supported me and this fic. I hope you enjoy :)

-Prologue-

There are many tales of where dragons come from. Some say they come from a faraway moon, ominously glowing with the life of eternal fire. Some say they are born from dying stars, or the heart of a volcano, but there is one myth that has yet to be revealed: a dragon born from the poisonous greed of man.

Many years ago, his father had told him, he was born from the smoke and ash of what was once his greed. Obsidian black scales tore away his human form as wings the size of great oak trees sprouted from his back.

He alone had ruled the skies. With his sheer strength and the deadly fire that raged inside him, he could topple entire fortresses to the ground. But even with all his strength – all his power – he still hungered for more. He hungered for praise, for honor, to be remembered and celebrated throughout history. So, he took on the form of a human, and infiltrated the great ancient kingdom of Krypton.

Easily, he moved up their military ranks and earned the praise from many about his strength – his ferocity in battle, but even with this, his desire for more still lingered inside him. When he won a battle, another war, he would push the kingdom right into another.

It was tearing the kingdom apart.

 _‘Zod, we have no need to fight anymore. The people are starving. We must place our resources back into helping the people instead of the army, or else there won’t be any people left for your army to fight for.’_ Lord Kal had tried to reason with the dragon, but Zod wouldn’t have it. His greed consumed all, including the kingdom of what was once Krypton.

However, born from its ashes was yet a new dragon.

_‘My son, you are the last child of Krypton – born from the smoke and ash of my bones, and the last dying breath of your mother Laura. You are the product of my greed; the poisonous hunger that moves all that is nature into being – the hunger that all must have to survive._

_‘You will come to learn that the greediest creatures of this land is man. They hunger for power, for wealth, for a legacy, and will do anything to obtain it. They are amusing in this way, and are easily manipulated due to their blindness. Exploit it – feed them, and then shake them to the very core. They are nothing but toys, and you are the ruler of all the land the sky touches for the skies are yours – all that is nature is yours._

_‘My son,’ the feeble hand moved to caress the young child’s cheek, ‘show the world your might; and all shall know your name.’_

The hand fell, and the fire that once flickered in those eyes had extinguished. The dragon was dead, leaving behind his son to move the world in his might, and move the world he would.

 

* * *

 

 

-Chapter One-

The sound of crackling sticks seemed to fill the room more than the heat they were supposed to produce, while the early spring chill seeped through the thin walls of the stately palace. However, it was not the cold that made him sit up straighter, but it was the person who sat before him.

Her eyes were dark as coals, but like the fireplace, little warmth shined through them. They were hard and calculating as they roamed over the parchment before her.

She was not pleased. The downward curve of her stern mouth along with the curling of her bejeweled hand was enough to know.

“They speak of peace when the snow had set.” those dark eyes caught his, “but when it melts, they should be at our gates.”

“I will not let that happen.” he promised.

She smiled – for the first time of their meeting, “I know you won’t. I’ll be relying on you once more, as my Lieutenant General, to take care of this impending mess.”

“Of course, your Highness. May I?” he indicated towards the papers she was just reading. With a wave of her hand, he took them to look over himself.

As expected, the letter was filled with promises of talk of peace once the snow thawed, but the Queen was right. There would be no peace once their path to the capital was no longer hindered by nature.

It would be war, and he would be ready.

“You seem pleased.”

He averted his gaze from the paper to her – to his Queen. The corners of her lips curled upward in amusement while her eyes were as dark as ever.

“I wouldn’t say pleased.”

“Excited then.” she took back her papers.

“To fight your war?” he scoffed, “I have fought many through the centuries. This one should be no different.”

“I know. It’s why I recruited you, although I wonder, what will you do once the war is over? Find another?”

“I am as eager to find another war as you are to finding a husband, your Highness.”

“That’s quite unfair of you. You know what the courts like to utter about us.”

He smirked. “It’s not unfair at all, after all, you do call me Hernan, Amanda.”

“Indeed, I do.” ‘ _It works like a charm._ ’ went left unsaid, but Hernan knew as did the Queen that she had no intentions of handing over her power through marriage. Therefore, she would have Hernan to not only fight off her enemies at her borders, but her suitors as well.

“Putting that aside, I have also received concerns from the small villages bordering the Kingdom of Gotham. I would like you to depart tonight with the Major General and see to the matter. I will have a battalion follow in your steps by tomorrow.”

“Tossing me out into the snow already?”

“Not fast enough.” Amanda quipped, shooing Hernan out by a wave of her hand. “Now go, I have other pressing concerns to attend to.

“As you wish, your Highness.” Hernan bowed deeply in a last show of theatrics before setting off towards his new mission.

As expected, the Major General was waiting for him by the edge of the woods with her pistols at hand, and a satchel by her boot. Her fiery red hair was braided behind her back, while she wrapped herself up in warm furs instead of metal. She, like Hernan, didn’t fear for her life. For Hernan, perhaps it was arrogance, but for her, she had confidence in her swordsmanship and aim to be fearless.

“Evening, Lieutenant General.” she greeted him with a mirthful glint in her blue eyes.

Hernan scoffed at the title. “Bekka.”

“That’s Major General to you, Sir.”

“Sir? Lieutenant General? I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’m looking for a woman named Bekka. She’s about this tall… kicks people in the knees just for looking at her the wrong way…” Hernan swiftly dodged the punch she hurtled his way. “There she is.”

“Hernan, I swear, you never let me have anything.”

“What, you mean your title? I can’t take that away from you; it’s yours. However, that doesn’t mean I won’t call you Bekka. It’s your name.”

Her lips drew into a thin line even as Hernan’s expression remained oblivious.

She sighed. “Forget it. Let’s go already. There’s more pressing matters at the moment.”

“Bekka.” Hernan tried to reach for her, but she snatched her arm away from his grasp in favor of retrieving her satchel.

“Come on, out with the wings.” she strapped her satchel around her shoulder before extending her arms out. She had been with Hernan for many years; she knew what he was.

Seeing her in position, Hernan dropped whatever might have upset her. She was right, they had more important things to get to. Hopefully, when they had another moment to themselves, she would tell him.

Even though the dying chill of winter lingered in the night air, Hernan had rid himself of his shirt. He leaned over exposing his back to the moon, as slowly, from beneath his human flesh, unfolded scaled wings. They were larger than any living man or creature for that matter, as just a single fold of his wing seemed to eclipse the light of the moon.

The red scales were hard, and rough to the touch. Nothing could penetrate them although men in the past have tried. They had tried many things to take down what some have called a god, a demon, a monster – but still, Hernan stood unmatched.

Most would be scared of such a sight, and Bekka had been at first, but now she wasn’t anymore. She knew Hernan was not a god, a demon, nor a monster. He was just… Hernan. There was no other way for her to describe it.

Next Hernan shifted his hands into claws. His fingers were overarching as his talons were long. However, he made sure not to hurt Bekka when he grasped her arms, and with a single flap of his wings, she was being lifted from the ground.

They were off.

Flying was much faster than traveling by horse, and Hernan made sure to fly high enough so they would not be seen, yet low enough so that Bekka may still breathe. Luckily, the trip wouldn’t take long. Any longer, and Hernan would have to hold Bekka against his chest which she hated for reasons beyond him.

Instead she’d rather be held by her arms even if it strained her shoulders. She was stubborn in that way about many things. It was both a blessing and a curse.

“Do you see anything?” she yelled up at him.

Hernan focused ahead where wisps of smoke faintly coiled around the treetops. There was not a gust of them, nor thick plumes of bulbous black. It was faint – it was dying, and Hernan knew the wisps were souls passing through to what laid beyond this world.

His grip around Bekka tightened, and she knew the answer. It was not good.

A minute later, and Hernan could smell it before he saw it: death. A part of him wanted to land. He wanted to search through the remains of the dead in hopes that there would be life – even if it were just one – but he knew he could not.

He had to move on. He had to go help villages that were still under siege – that still had a fighting chance for life.

Bile wanted to rise up in disgust, but a gentle hand around his claw held the sickness down. It was not all humans, he had to remind himself. Not all humans were like that. Not all…

The more he tried to tell himself, the more it sounded like a lie. He clung to Bekka even more.

Then he heard it. A piercing cry in the night, wails of pain and agony as the smoke this time spewed the sky in black.

“Brace yourself. I’ll be dropping you down.” Hernan warned before swooping into the trees. When he was low enough, he released Bekka from his grasp. Bekka hit the ground running, and Hernan was not far behind.

He refolded his wings back into his flesh and his hands transformed into that of a man’s. He slipped his shirt over his head, and dashed through the trees at incredible speed.

His heart pounded faster as the wails grew louder. The echoing thunder of pistols in his ears ignited a greedy thirst in his gut, and his fingers wrapped around the hilt of his blade.

Without hesitation, Hernan had leapt through the forest, and into the roaring flames. He was the ruler of the skies, the son of smoke and ash, he had nothing to fear – no one to stop him. Even as the men raised their swords, and rained fire over him, he was an unstoppable force.

After centuries of fighting battles, his body had a mind of its own. It moved on its own accord to a song only he knew. He sliced through the invaders, cutting them down until his hands were stained red, and his shirt covered with pieces that didn’t belong to him.

He was a monster, a demon, a god of war. He was a force beyond nature, and yet, when he looked upon the bloodied eyes of a child, he was suddenly nothing. All the powers he possessed, he couldn’t have stopped these men from harming this child. Yes, the boy lived, but at what cost?

Hernan sheathed his sword and went on bended knee so his bloodied gaze could meet a face just as stained as his.

“You are alright now.” Hernan had falsely promised like a devil for he knew it was not so simple. It was not alright and it wouldn’t be for a long time for this boy. Even so, like all men who felt powerless, the boy clung to Hernan. He clung to his guileful words like they were the answer to all his prayers.

Hernan picked the child up in his arms. “You will be alright.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you alright?” Hernan looked up at the gentle hand that rested upon his shoulder. Her hands were red like his, as she had yet a moment to wash them. Hernan doubted there was any water to wash them, and if there was water, it should be used to clean the wounded, not their bloodied hands.

He sighed. “I know it is only the two of us, Bekka, but please bear it for a little longer. I must go retrieve supplies if the survivors are to eat and stay warm tonight.

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

“They need you more than I do.” Hernan stood from the bedside of the young boy he had been holding. The boy was asleep after a long moment of silence. He was too shocked to speak, to cry, to do anything but just stare at the red that marked the hands that held him.

“Take care of the boy. He will cry when he wakes.” _‘For when he wakes, he will realize this was not a dream.’_

Hernan left the stranger’s home. He did not know who owned the residence, but only that it was empty. It was most likely abandoned.

As he walked down the beaten road, all the doors of the homes were open. He could hear crying and moans of pain. He could see people huddled in the corner of the streets, their arms heavy with whatever left they owned.

Some cried to him.

“Help me, please. Help me.”

Hernan looked into her young eyes as the cut across her brow had dried.

“Help will be coming soon, Madam. Please remain calm until the troops come with food and water. In the meantime, I must fetch some supplies. I promise I won’t be long.”

“Please, please help.”

She wasn’t listening. How could she? Her life had just crumbled into ash before her eyes. What reason could she find in anything anymore?

“I’m sorry, Madame, but I must go.” Hernan marched forward, even after she cried after him, but there was nothing he could for her without ignoring the others _. ‘At least you still have lungs to scream with.’_ Hernan bitterly thought, but fought down the poisonous voice in his head. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault that humans were this way.

As his father had told him, they were greedy, duplicitous creatures hungry for power. They would pillage and burn down villages, entire capitals just to prove their might. They would hurt other humans, kill them, because they could – because they were stronger.

The bile from before threatened to rise once more, as Hernan threw a dirtied rag over the corpse of a young woman. Even though she was dead, he tried to preserve her honor. Even if it was pointless, even if he knew some street monger would take advantage of her again though her flesh was cold, he tried. It was all he could do.

He escaped into the forest to transform out of sight. His legs were that of dragon’s as were his hands. With one large leap, he soared into the air searching for prey. The soldiers – if he could call them that – had burned all the grain, and released what remained of the livestock.

Hernan hoped that perhaps he’d hear the squeals of a runaway pig, or the galloping hooves of a deer. Instead he heard the thump of a rabbit, sprinting for its shelter. It wasn’t much meat, but it would have to do.

With one swift leap, Hernan snatched it between his claws and put it to peace. That was one. He needed more.

After what was an hour, Hernan had bounded the feet of his game together with rope, and trudged his way back to the village. It should be enough to feed the survivors until the troops the Queen promised arrived.

Of course, it would take time to prepare it, and hopefully the people wouldn’t skin him before he could skin the deer. Hopefully they would still be rational enough to understand that he was trying to help them. But of course, at times of war, no one was ever rational. Even before a war, the peace was just an illusion.

Hernan had worked for different powers of different countries. He knew what duplicitous deeds happen without the public’s knowing. He knew the convoluted politics, and the feigned niceties that occur before the actual storm. For storms don’t just occur, they brew. They roll in on the coattails of the wind to unleash its wrath. And like storms, war didn’t just happen once or in one place. They happen everywhere at any time for differing reasons because that was human nature.

They fight.

A sudden rustle of leaves dispelled his thoughts. Reflexively, his hand reached for his sword as he let go of his game. He carefully stalked closer to where the sound had originated. He couldn’t hear breathing, nor the rapid thumping of a human heart. Was it an animal?

When he went to part the leaves, a high-pitched yowl could be heard. It was predatory, hungry, and who was Hernan to defy nature? Hernan would let the beast have its fill. That was until there was further rustling of the leaves.

The cat purred. It was pleased of the state his prey was in. The creature was small and bloodied. It was nearly camouflaged against the whiteness of the snow if not for the patches of red that soaked its furry back.

It was a bat. A bat at the end of winter turning into spring – Hernan had never seen such a thing. Not only was it not the season for him, it was white. It was not a dark brown. Was it an anomaly? A freak against nature?

Perhaps, Hernan thought. It was not the first animal he had seen that was freakishly white when the rest of its kin was normal. It, for whatever reason, was damned from birth. It was not meant to survive for long.

The cat yowled once more before letting out a hiss. Another predator had come to challenge him. Both wanted the bat for themselves as the creature’s torn wings flapped listlessly in a vain attempt to escape.

He remembered in his travels, being told that such abnormal creatures were evil or the servants of Death. Their white was of a deathly pallor, a sure target for anyone to pick. However, this creature, whose small chest slowly rose and fell in dying breath… hungered to live.

Hernan be damned.

He had had enough death for the day. Against his better judgement, he took the creature with him.


	2. Chapter 2

 The past two days had taken its toll on Bekka. She has not had a moments rest since she arrived at the village that snowy night.

“You should rest.” Hernan said, but Bekka only offered him a defiant smile.

“I’ll have plenty of rest when I leave this world.”

“You’ll leave it sooner than you think with an attitude like that.”

She only gave him a mocking face in return. It was moments like these, Hernan thought Bekka still a child. Bekka was not his daughter, but he had raised her to become who she was today, the one who stubbornly mocks him.

He couldn’t be prouder.

“The troops should be arriving soon. I can hear the wagons from here,” Hernan remarked. “Then, I implore you to rest before we leave to head closer towards the border.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Major.”

Her defiant smile softened by title he used to address her. Her lips were a curve of gratitude, and Hernan smiled in return. He didn’t know nor understand why the title meant so much to her, but if she could give him such an expression through her tired eyes, then he would continue to address her as such.

She was no longer a child. She was his Major General.

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

“Captain,” Hernan addressed the young man who lead the troops. The men looked tired, but straightened as soon as Hernan laid eyes on them. They had no right to be tired now, Hernan thought. Their work had just begun.

People flooded the carts as soon as they saw the troops coming down the snow laden path. Hernan had kept them fed off of what little game he could find at the end of winter, and melted snow in substitute for water. But the people needed medicine, fresh water, and grains to hold them until the end of Spring, where their crops would fully flourish.

The young man saluted Hernan when he saw him. “We came as soon as we could, but wheels don’t fare well in the snow.”

“I know. I’m glad you could make it. Those severely injured are housed in what’s left of the inn. Send the healers there immediately. Try to save your water supply. We might as well make use of the snow while we still have it.” Hernan explained. “Did you bring an extra horse?”

“Yes, we have two for you and the Major to continue onto the next town.”

“Very well, dismissed Captain.”

Hernan went to help the troops keep the villagers at bay, and rationing out supplies to those in need. He had been with them for three nights. He knew who needed what most.

Even so, those hands reached for more, always more. Hernan knew they were in a desperate state, and were thus irrational. He tried not to hold it against them, but the words of his father always lingered in his mind. Whether it was the poorest of folk, or the wealthiest, they always sought for the irrational.

“Captain Trevor,” Bekka addressed the young man. Hernan noticed her face seemed brighter… did she wash it?

“Major.” Trevor straightened himself at her presence as his blue eyes caught her gaze. Hernan fought off the laugh that nearly bubbled past him. He knew Steve was fighting off the urge to look her over. After all, no other woman wore breeches in their day. Bekka was the only one to show off the shape of her legs, or that she even had two. Who knew what was under the skirts of the ladies at court?

The men once complained how unsightly it was, or that it was distracting, but Hernan was quick to silence them with a blunt hit to the back of the head. Eventually, Bekka was able to win them all over with her military tactics, and her fighting prowess, but it was not easy by any means. Hernan would say it was her hardest battle to overcome.

Trevor, nonetheless, kept his gaze upon her face, which was not a hard thing to do. Bekka was beautiful. Her features far surpassed any he’s seen at court.

“I see you’ve made it unscathed,” she said, a little too sweetly by Hernan’s ears, but nonetheless drew a smile from Trevor. “I’m glad.”

“And you, Major, seem to be faring well.”

“I wouldn’t be your Major if I wasn’t.”

Hernan laughed. He couldn’t help himself as Trevor seemed to redden a little at her words, but nodded all the same before returning to his work. If Bekka wanted to court the young lad, she was failing rather miserably at it, or Trevor was a masochist.

Hernan liked to think the latter, but he kept it to himself as he handed her the reigns to one of the horses. “Try not to fall off.”

“I know how to ride.” she straddled it like a man, with legs on either side.

“I know, but you haven’t slept for two days,” Hernan reminded her. “We should ride for half the day, then I insist we stop for an hour’s rest.”

“Fine.” she took off before Hernan could say any more.

“Child.” Hernan was not too far behind.

They rode for a good portion of the day before Hernan was finally able to convince Bekka she needed rest. Hernan had found some sturdy ground where the snow was compact. There, with her head in his lap, she rested on a mat of furs to keep her warm.

His fingers ran through her fiery, red hair. She had let it grow out, Hernan mused. Hernan had encouraged her to keep it short, and Bekka didn’t seem to mind the request. She seemed to rather enjoy the freedom it allowed her when she fought. However, she now had it long enough to braid it behind her back.

When had she decided to grow it? Was it because of a certain Captain? Were the women of the court finally getting to her? Hernan had always tried to encourage Bekka to be who she was. She was a fighter. Perhaps she hadn’t always been, but when Hernan had found her tucked high up in a tree, she was ready to tear his throat out.

She, like most humans, was hungry for life, and Hernan didn’t berate her for it. Rather he enabled her to fight, taught her what he had gathered from centuries of fighting. Since then, she never had another reason to hide. She was fearless… or so Hernan had thought.

Hernan had underestimated the fear human societies could place in one another to be a certain way. Hernan could fight it all he wished, but he was sorely outnumbered.

“I can’t sleep all day.” Bekka had slowly risen.

Hernan had lost track of time, but the moon was high above them. She was right. They should get a move on.

They rode all through the remainder of the night, and arrived past dawn to the town. On the surface, they seemed to have fared better than the neighboring village, but Hernan knew that was not the case.

The windows of the buildings were outlined in black, singed beyond repair perhaps. Corpses had been dragged to the center of the square, as Bekka covered her nose from the stench of rotting flesh.

When people saw them, they began to crowd them, reaching for anything they could get a hold of.

“Stay back,” Bekka warned as her horse went on its hind legs in fear of the sudden flooding of people.

“We are here to help,” Hernan tried to speak reason. “Take us to your wounded.”

The plea fell on deaf ears until shouting in the back could be heard.

“Please, let the Lieutenant through. God has sent him to help us all.”

Hernan wanted to scoff. He hated the clergy, but the people made a path for the priest.

“Thank goodness you have arrived.” the priest held a cross pressed between his palms as if his prayers were finally answered.

“More of us will arrive in the coming days. Please, take me to your wounded so that I may tend to them.”

“Of course, Sir. This way, please.” 

Hernan and Bekka made their way through the crowd with the help of the priest and the clergy. It seemed they have instilled the fear of god through the people, and although Hernan usually abhorred such behavior, this time it worked in his favor.

They were lead to the church where Hernan could hear the pained moaning before they even opened the doors.

“We were attacked five nights ago. Six passed away this morning, God have mercy on their souls. A total of forty have been brought to the square, and await proper burial. We have also received reports of young men and women missing, and one child who could not be found.”

Hernan dismounted his horse, and handed it off to one of the clergy. “I’m sorry to hear, Father. What do you make of your provisions?”

“We have plenty of clean cloth to dress the wounded, and have been melting snow for water. Our grain supply was unfortunately burned. Although we have some stored in the church, it won’t last for long.”

“I feared that would be the case. Her majesty has already sent troops to help replenish the lost grain from her own storage. It won’t replace all that you have lost, but it will help,” Hernan promised. “Now, allow me.”

Hernan made his way into the church with Bekka beside him. Luckily, he did not go up in flames, but Hernan kept that thought to himself as he went to tend to the wounded as much as he could. Bekka helped him.

He cleaned and redressed wounds, realigned broken bones, and even sewed together lacerations that had yet to be tended to. After centuries of living and traveling the world, Hernan had gathered a vast knowledge of medicine used in the battlefield. Some may have called it witch craft in these areas, but Hernan made sure to tread lightly with the eyes of the priest on him. It would not do for the Queen to stir up such trouble.

When nightfall came, a hand fell upon Hernan’s shoulder. “Lieutenant, you have done what you can today. The rest must be left to God.” The priest handed Hernan a blanket. “We do have but a humble room for you and your Major.”

“Please then, let her have it. I’ll be fine.” Hernan insisted.

“Oh, you two are not—”

“No, she is my sister,” Hernan replied. It was a common mistake, so Hernan didn’t fault the man, although the look that followed the shock was not one Hernan liked. It was judgement. An unmarried woman traveling with a man and wearing breeches, Hernan had heard it all.

Nonetheless, the man kept silent either out of peace, or the hard look in Hernan’s eyes. “I see. Then we shall find another room for you, Sir. You must rest too.”

“That is very kind of you, Father.”

Hernan had bid Bekka a restful night before he retired to the small room the priest had found him. It was a little bigger than that of a closet, but that was fine. Hernan didn’t need much space. He just needed a place to rest. Although he did not need to sleep like a human, he still needed his rest every once in a while.

He began to shift his jacket off when he felt a rustling in his breast pocket.

A tired smile passed across his features. “Lo siento, pequeño.”

Hernan carefully reached into his pocket where the little white bat had resided since the day Hernan had rescued him from the cold. Hernan had tried earlier to press crushed snow to the creature’s lips, but the bat wouldn’t take it. Hernan was worried that the bat had died in his pocket, but the creature was still alive.

It weakly shifted in Hernan’s hold. Its wounded wings were bound close to its body as to not further injure itself in an attempt to fly.

Hernan whispered softly to it, trying to calm it, but still the creature persisted to struggle.

“Slow, it’s alright.” Hernan tried to sooth as he could feel the erratic bounding of its heart against the padding of his thumb. Then as Hernan went to stroke the creature’s head, it bit him.

Its small fangs pierced through his dragon skin as Hernan’s gaze lingered at the red starting to bubble at the puncture. Out of curiosity, or perhaps not even of his own violation, he let the drop fall against the bat’s snout.

The small pink tongue flicked out to capture it. It greedily moved closer towards Hernan’s thumb to suckle against the wound.

The bat was no angel, Hernan realized. He could not even say it was a monster or a devil, but the way it savored the blood that flowed from him, it was like any other being. It was greedy. It was hungry, and Hernan would feed its greed.

“That’s it. Drink up.” Hernan carefully smoothed the creature’s furry back as it had its fill. “Take what you will.”

When the creature had finished, Hernan wrapped the bat in clean cloth before placing it into his coat pocket which laid across the bottom of the mat. It was time for rest. It was time for bed as Hernan didn’t even bother to undress as he fell back against the thin mat.

Hernan imagined he had fallen asleep as soon as his head had hit the sheets, but he couldn’t be sure, for as soon as his eyes closed, he felt like they had opened to a new world. It was a scene he was not familiar with.

The grass weeds had grown so tall, it was easy for one to hide between their blades. Small gnats buzzed in his ear, and butterflies circled the patches of wild flowers that carpeted the clearing. Although the sun seemed to burn hot, Hernan did not feel its rays against his skin. Was he dreaming?

“Kirk!” Hernan turned to face the sudden voice. It was a young girl with a bright smile. She bunched her skirt with both hands, as she ran into the clearing where Hernan was standing. However, Hernan wasn’t her target, but instead a man he hadn’t noticed until she wrapped her arms around him.

“Kirk, I found you. Will is looking for you.”

“Will?”

Hernan looked down at the two. He felt intrusive. He felt out of place as the young man, Kirk, had covered her hand with his. The gesture was intimate.

Her smile might have been greater than Kirk’s, but his was equally as fond.

“Reading again?” she sat down beside him and rested her head of golden curls on the young man’s shoulder. “I wish I could read.”

“I offered to teach you.”

“I’m afraid father would throw a fit, and mother would think it unsightly for a woman my age.”

“I cannot speak for your father, but I must contest your mother. I wouldn’t find it unbecoming of a woman to know how to read.”

“That’s because you are too kind, Kirk. Mother says I only need to know how to sign my name.”

Kirk’s lips drew into a thin line, but he said nothing further. Hernan didn’t find it unusual either. Most women didn’t know how to read or write. If they were wealthy enough, some would get the minimum knowledge of how to sign their name so that they could write it on their marriage contract but nothing more.

The way she was dressed, she didn’t look to be the daughter of a farmer. The skirt of her dress was of a bright color red, and by the way her waist was synched tightly, it meant she was wealthy enough to have a maid tighten the back of her corset. A silver cross hung around her neck, further signifying her wealth.

However, what puzzled Hernan was how a lady of her stature could be wandering around a clearing unattended. As if reading his mind, the young man, Kirk, spoke up.

“You shouldn’t be alone, Tina. I’ll accompany you back home.” He made to stand, but her hand stopped him. Her lips moved to form words Hernan never got to hear for the illusion world spun out of focus.

“Kirk!”

Hernan was abruptly dropped off in a completely different environment from where he was last. The room was dark with only a single window to allow in some natural light. A fire place lit the opposite side, but again, Hernan felt no heat resonating from it. He could only hear the crackling of the kindle, and see the red embers glow.

The young man Hernan recognized from the clearing stood before a large tome. He looked up towards where his name was being called. His long dark hair was still tied back, but the ribbon was red instead of green.

His shirt was simple as was the tie of the cravat loose. He, like the woman before, had to be of at least a modest class.

Hernan turned around at the sound of approaching footsteps. A man around the age of Kirk appeared. His long hair was tied back as well, although he was more fully dressed with a double-breasted waist coat, his cravat intricately tied, and embroidered ruffles at the end of his sleeves.

“Why are you always holed up in the dark?” the young man teased. “There’s no wonder you are always ill. You never see the sun.”

“Nonsense. I saw it yesterday, or I believe it was yesterday…”

“Kirk, you are the worst.” the man laughed, “And heartless. Am I being replaced?”

Kirk looked up in confusion until he followed his friend’s line of sight. “Oh, well… when you put it that way, perhaps.”

The young man scoffed before clapping a hand over Kirk’s shoulder. “What have we been working on, friend, and newest friends?”

He gave an approving nod up to the two bats that hung from the rafters of the ceiling.

Hernan glanced up at the two furry things. They were both a dark brown with their leathery like wings wrapped around them. It reminded him of his white one.

“Bat spit.”

Hernan turned to Kirk, his alarmed expression matching that of his friend’s.

"Bat spit?" he parroted. "Why on Earth would you dabble in bat spit?"

Kirk smiled knowingly. "Think about it, Will. These are vampire bats. They feed off of livestock by puncturing the skin with their fangs. However, puncture wounds don't sufficiently cause blood flow. Rather it bubbles unless applied pressure on either side of the puncture. There must be a property we do not know of in vampire bats that makes the blood amply flow for feeding."

"And you think that property is in their spit?"

"I tested their fangs to see if they were like poisonous snakes, the venom shooting from their fangs. The results were negative. Thus, spit seemed the most logical place to look next." Kirk explained.

Will breathed in deeply, before releasing it slowly. "It sounds logical... however, if you keep this up, people are going to think you're more than just a physician's apprentice."

"If you're implying I'm a witch, that sentence doesn't bode well for you either."

"Nonsense. I was under a spell, a mere victim to your charms."

It was Kirk's turn to scoff. "Enough. If you're going to mock me, then at least be useful while doing so."

"Of course, master. I am but a humble servant to your wills."

The two shared a smile, a laugh, and something Hernan couldn't quite place other than being love. Not necessarily romantic in anyway, but that there was keenness in the curve of their lips, and affection in the way they leaned against each other as if in further affirmation of the other's company. It was a shared bond beyond comradery.

Hernan may have looked upon the scene as a stranger, but he did not feel so strange when he saw the two together. Rather they reminded him of close relationships he had shared in the past, even his current one with Bekka. The way Kirk’s fingers gently ran through the Will’s dark hair as he slept, proved further the feeling the two young men shared.

Suddenly, the fingers swiftly left his friend’s head for a piece of cloth to cover his cough. His whole body shook at the force of it, but it did not stop there. His gasps were shallow, and his pale cheeks turned red as he struggled to catch his breath. Hernan instinctively moved to help him. He went to slap his back only for his hand to pass right through him.

The coughing stopped.

Blue eyes, much paler than his, stared at Hernan.

Hernan froze. “Can you see me?”

Blue eyes rapidly blinked before looking down at the cloth.

The cloth was speckled with blood.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hernan?”

Hernan’s hand had reached out to grab the bloodied cloth, but in his hand was not cloth but another’s wrist.

“Hernan, are you alright?”

“Yes.” Hernan breathed deeply. “I’m fine.”

Although he could hear his blood rushing in his ears, and his heart pounding within his chest, he moved to sit up from his cot.

“I’ll be up in moment.”

Bekka nodded. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

When she left, Hernan couldn’t help but heave a sigh of relief. She had spared him of any questions. Surely she would ask him later, but he could not give her an answer he did not know himself.

Was he dreaming? It felt like a dream in the fact that he could not feel the environment he was in, and yet, he had never seen those people before. He had never seen that field, that room where the two bats hung from the rafters.

It was surreal as it was genuine.

It felt prophetic – a vision of something he did not understand. Who was the young man he saw? Kirk was his name? His complexion was quite pale like those farther north, or perhaps it was the lack of sun he was teased of not seeing.

No matter the origins of the dream, Hernan couldn’t think about it now. The sound of Bekka’s foot tapping impatiently outside his door stirred him to move. He grabbed his jacket from the end of the mat only to fee its heavy weight in his hand.

Yes, that was right. His small bat was still in his pocket. As he shouldered his jacket on, he gently pressed his hand against the small mound that was the bat. It was still breathing. It was still alive.

 _‘You’re a tough one.’_ Hernan thought before joining Bekka.

“I take it that you slept well?” Bekka’s teasing smile was short lived. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t see why I wouldn’t be.”

“You were mumbling in your sleep.”

“Oh, did I say anything indecent?”

“You don’t need to be asleep for that.”

“Bekka, you wound me.”

“You’ll live.” she patted his shoulder as a consoling gesture and one that ceased the matter. If Hernan didn’t wish to talk about it, she would respect it.

She moved towards the main chapel where people who did not survive the night were being removed. Hernan moved to help, and spent a great deal of the day digging graves before the smell of rotting flesh grew too thick. With the ground still hard from the winter’s cold, it was difficult for a normal human to dig, but it was no problem for Hernan.

He borrowed a spare shovel as a guise before getting to work while Bekka kept the coast clear for him. A normal shovel would snap in two with the amount of pressure needed to break the earth. His hands transformed into claws, and he dug his way through most of the day until evening. By then there was enough plots for all those accounted for.

“You have done fine work, lieutenant.” Hernan turned to see the priest standing behind him with a cup of what Hernan hoped was water. Hernan had heard the man’s footsteps before he came over the hill. By the time the priest had reached him, Hernan’s hands were back to human form.

“It’s the least I could do, Father. It is unfortunate that some will be unmarked.”

“Letting them rest in peace is the best thing we can do for them. God shall take care of the rest.”

“As you say, Father. May I?” Hernan looked down at the cup the priest held in his frail hands.

“Ah, yes, this is for you.” the priest handed Hernan the cup of water. Hernan drank it down immediately. The greediness had the old priest smiling.

“I wish we could do more for you after all that you have done for us. But it seems water and shelter will have to do.”

“That is more than enough. Do your people have the capacity to bury their dead?”

“We do thanks to you.”

“Then I shall go off to hunt.”

“In this weather? Will you not catch ill?”

“I will be fine, Father,” Hernan assured. “In return, please take care of my Major. I understand people may regard her unkindly for her being a woman, but under the crown she is foremost a soldier, and must be respected as such.”

“Of course, Lieutenant. We have nothing but the utmost respect for her.” The priest bowed his head respectfully before making his way up hill. Hernan didn’t find his words to be completely without fault, but the side of him that never trusted the church gnawed at him.

Nonetheless, he moved on with one ear listening to the small footfalls of the deer, and the other listening to Bekka’s whereabouts.

By the softness of her voice and her consoling words, Bekka must be at the church doing her rounds. She wasn’t the most skilled when it came to medicine. Her hands were steady with a blade, but quaked under the weight of a needle.

Washing and dressing of wounds she could stomach, but Hernan knew how even then, her hands shook.

“You did well today,” Hernan told her softly when he returned later that evening. She sat across from him, helping to skin the deer Hernan had managed to catch.

“I’ve done very little in comparison.” Bekka didn’t look up. Her eyes remained on the task at hand.

“Nonsense, you’ve done a great deal for these people.”

“These people,” Bekka scoffed. “You always refer to them as separate from yourself. Is that why your hands are so steady? Because they are simply just people, and you are…”

“Bekka.”

“I’m sorry.” Bekka wiped her blade against a dirtied rag before placing it back in its scabbard. “I’ve spoken out of turn. It seems the past few days have loosened my tongue.”

“Bekka.” Hernan stopped her from leaving with a gentle hand. “If this is about weakness and strength, then—”

“You don’t understand.” Bekka withdrew her arm from his hold. “It’s not about my weakness nor your strength. I admire you greatly for your strength. Do not misunderstand me, but there is a weakness in you, even you are too blind to see.”

Hernan held his tongue. There was weakness in him. He did not doubt her, but whether his weakness truly made him weak, whether it was blindness or pure arrogance… he wondered who here was the presumptuous one.

“I’ll be taking my leave, Lieutenant.”

“Good night, Major.”

Her step faltered for a moment at the term he addressed her as, but she made up her mind, and made haste back to the church. Hernan was left to skin the rest of his catch and prepare it to be cooked for the morning

The trouble with meat was that it was heavy. It wasn’t easy to digest especially if it is not something you eat daily. The people of the countryside, although surrounded by deer, didn’t eat it. They relied heavily on their crops for food, but their stored grain was gone, and thus they had to eat what Hernan had provided.

Bekka had steered clear of Hernan for the past few days. She didn’t bother to wake him, nor did she report to him for orders. She simply helped where the people told her they needed her to be. Hernan had done the same. He had fixed their mill, moved and buried their dead, and continued in caring for the wounded.

They would pass each other in turn, but wouldn’t so much as exchange a word. Hernan thought it ridiculous, but he was too prideful to break the silence himself.

He sighed. “Well at least I still have you, pequeño.”

The small white bat stirred in his hold. Its red eyes blinked up at him.

“Don’t betray me now. I saved you.”

The bat turned its head to nuzzle Hernan’s thumb before sinking its fangs into the skin.

Hernan huffed. “I see. I am but only a food source to you.”

The bat continued to feed as if to confirm Hernan’s suspicions. He couldn’t blame the creature. If anything, he found it rather cute. If not for its size nor red eyes, then for its dependency on him. Hernan wondered what that meant. Did he resent Bekka for no longer needing him?

No, that couldn’t be. He was proud of her, but perhaps she was not of him. She claimed to admire him, but her words still stung even if he did not fully understand them. What was the weakness she saw in him? What was the black mark she stained him with?

Hernan thought he knew his own faults, but he never confided in her as to what those were. It wouldn’t change anything if he did, and he doubted the faults he acknowledged were the same as the one she claimed he had.

Ridiculous.

Hernan was fine the way he was. He wasn’t perfect by any means, nor did he claim perfection. But he was not so blinded to deserve such coldness from her.

The fangs extracted from his skin and the bat looked sated in his hold. It was still too weak to make much of a fuss, but it didn’t seem to want to. It simply rested peacefully in the cup of Hernan’s hands, and the image produced a small smile from Hernan.

Yes, he was fine, and so was this bat. They both would be fine.

“Hernan.” he looked up surprised to see Bekka standing in the doorway. “Is that a bat?”

“Yes, I found it and took it in.” Hernan carefully concealed the creature once more in his pocket. “However, I doubt that was what you came for.”

“No, it wasn’t. The priest has found something he’d like for you to take a look at.”

“Very well.”

Hernan rose and followed Bekka. All the while neither moved to say anything else. Hernan’s features feigned nonchalance while Bekka’s lips remained a stiff line. As they approached the room, Hernan could hear the crying of a woman. His heartbeat quickened, and he moved past Bekka into the small room.

It seemed to be the head priest’s study with a shelf of different books, a simple cross hanging upon the back wall, and a small desk. Before the desk sat a weeping woman.

“What is the meaning of this, Father?”

“There is no need for alarm, Lieutenant. A man found this woman guilty of possessing an item belonging to the enemy.”

“May I see it?”

The priest held out a jacket made of fine thick material. It was made to endure the cold. Surely, they could not prosecute her for trying to keep herself or her loved ones warm. Nonetheless, Hernan further searched the incriminating garment. It was on its upper sleeve where he found it. A coat of arms.

“This can’t be right.”

“We thought the same, Lieutenant, but if I’m not mistaken, that is a coat of arms from a Lord in the kingdom of Gotham. One of the kingdoms we are at war with.”

“It makes sense that they would be from Gotham since your town borders their kingdom. What I find odd, if I’m not mistaken, is that this is the crest of Lord Moxon.”

“I thought Moxon withdrew from the war.” Bekka peered over Hernan’s shoulder at the coat of arms. “Lord Moxon was gravely injured in battle a year ago, and his son has been proclaimed too ill to fight.”

“The Moxons are notably wealthy with a great deal of resources. I do not find it all too shocking they would send a small battalion to pillage the borders of Kandor,” the priest said.

“That may be true, but Gotham and Kandor are currently in the middle of settling a peace treaty. If Gotham did send troops to pillage our borders, it would threaten the treaty yet formed.”

“I see.” The priest replied. “I was not aware of negotiations being made. Perhaps Moxon does not agree to a peace settlement.”

“I’m afraid you may be right, Father.” Hernan returned the jacket to the woman to the surprise of the priest. “Nonetheless, let this woman go. She is guilty of only being human. This jacket, although belonging to the enemy, should keep her warm.”

“You do not understand, Lieutenant. She is guilty of withholding information. The court has already decided.”

Hernan’s lips drew thin. It was out of his jurisdiction. There was nothing he could do. He feared what the punishment would be so he did not ask. “I see, is that all, Father?”

“Yes, I hope this information helps the Queen and the kingdom of Kandor.”

“Yes, I will relay your message to the Queen. Thank you, Father.”

Hernan quickly slipped past Bekka to exit the room. He could not listen to the sniffing of the woman damned by her people, nor look at her pleading eyes as they watched him leave. There was nothing he could do. There was nothing…

Hernan sat by the edge of the forest, cradling the small bat in the palm of his hands. It’s furry white chest gently rose and fell as it slept, and the top of its head pressed against the underside of Hernan’s thumb.

It seemed so innocent, yet it drank Hernan’s blood to survive. Even so, should one be damned when all they wished to do is live? That woman did not mean harm onto anyone. She merely wanted the coat for its warmth. Her home was most likely ransacked. Her things burned and pillaged. Why should she be condemned for taking something that would help her survive?

Yes, it held information about the perpetrators, but considering how close this village was to Gotham, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. They would have eventually figured it out, but instead they jumped on her. They condemned her. They damned her as if it would satisfy their need for someone to pay for their misfortunes.

Hernan knew war brought out the worst in people, but seeing it happen and not be able to do something about it… it gnawed at him. He was supposed to be powerful. He was supposed to be a god, but what god was so weak that they could not save everyone?

“I thought I would find you here.”

Hernan looked down from his perch to see Bekka leaning against the side of his tree.

“We’re speaking again?”

“Oh don’t be a child, Hernan.”

Hernan didn’t hide the childish pout that followed.

Bekka sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“For you realizing your weakness.”

“I didn’t realize it, Bekka… I’ve known for a while now.”

Bekka moved so she could look up at Hernan and he looked down at her. Her blue eyes were sympathetic as was the soft curve of her lips.

“You can’t control people, nor can you stay away from us. That is your weakness. You may say, these people, but you do not understand how these people really feel. You see one thing and define it to be the same for all of us. That is not how people work. We are flawed, but differently so, and yet we are the same in many ways. So you are right as you are wrong… do you see what I mean?”

A self-deprecating smirk tugged the corner of Hernan’s lips. “People are truly a mystery, Bekka, and perhaps it’s the mystery that keeps me from simply holing myself up in cave. All the same, I think you are equally as guilty as me. I may make presumptions about humans, but you presume me to be some things as well.”

“I don’t think my presumptions are entirely wrong.”

“And neither are mine.”

“Fine,” Bekka conceded. “I’m sorry for you and me. It seems we are both helpless.”

“It would seem so.” Hernan’s smile softened.

“Now are you going to come down and let me see your pet bat or are you going to sulk for the rest of the night?”

Hernan couldn’t help but laugh. Bekka had that power to her. She could piss him off, but a moment later make him laugh.

“Fine, you win,” Hernan capitulated at last. He hopped down from his perch to show Bekka the small white bat. She, much like him, found the creature to be cute despite its odd appearance.

With his fight with Bekka yielding a draw, according to Hernan, he was able to go to bed more easily than the previous nights. He wrapped the white bat up snuggly once more to keep it warm. It yawned, producing a small sound that had Hernan smiling.

It reminded him of his dream a few nights ago, of the young man with two bats hanging from his rafters. He could see why he would prefer bats over people. They were cute, even if sometimes finicky.

“Buenos noches, mi pequeño.” Hernan placed the small bat into his coat pocket before laying it at the end of his mat.

He closed his eyes for the night to take him. Where the night took him, he was not sure. It felt like a dream, but again, he didn’t recognize his surroundings. The room was dark save for the fireplace where embers glowed in the dying hearth.

“Oh, who let the fire go out?”

Hernan looked over at a small figure moving through the dark. He could hear them heave a little followed by a small thud. Then at last, after a few moments, the newly placed logs were catching fire by the kindle beneath it.

The new flames illuminated a young pale face. He recognized her. It was her, Tina.

She picked up her skirts as she made haste over towards the bed. It was then Hernan noticed the young man from before. He laid upon the bed motionless as sweat beaded his brow and his chest slowly moved with great effort.

He was dying.

“You’re freezing.” she took his sickly hands in hers, trying to warm them with her warm breath.

“T-Tina… you shouldn’t… be here.”

“I’m not leaving you, Kirk.” she pressed a small cross into his hands, the cross Hernan recognized as the one she had worn around her neck that day in the fields.

With his hands between hers, she bowed her head to pray.

“Dear Lord, I’ve been told it says in the Bible, that when those who cried to the Lord in their trouble, you saved them from their distress. You sent out your word and healed them; you rescued them from the grave. I beg you, Lord, please save my friend. Please, do not take him from me.”

“T-Tina…”

Light blue eyes wearily opened. With great effort, he turned his head to look over at her as she continued to pray for him. He didn’t move to interrupt her again, but simply watched as her words grew more desperate and tears formed beneath her lashes.

Hernan had to turn away. He couldn’t look upon the scene further. He couldn’t see her cry although he heard the choked sob that escaped her.

Why was he here? Why was he seeing this?

When he opened his eyes once more, morning light filtered through the morbid room. The door creaked open, and Hernan turned to see the other young friend he remembered from the dream, Will. Like before, he was impeccably dressed, although his hair appeared a little disheveled by the haste he must have taken to reach them.

“Tina, you shouldn’t be here.” he reached her in stride, and pulled her up from Kirk’s side. Hernan thought he was perhaps too rough, and even she pushed him away with a fury burning in her eyes.

“Where were you? You claim to care for him, and yet it was me who wept by his bedside. Have you no conscious? Have you no sense of remorse?”

“I have plenty, but I also have the sense to not come here. Kirk isn’t dying so you can follow him, unless that is what you wish. Do you wish that, Tina?”

“What are you saying?”

“Admit it. If it came to me or him, you would choose him.”

“Have you no propriety? You’ve lost your mind.”

She moved to return to Kirk’s bedside, but Will had stopped her. He grabbed her wrist harshly and pulled her away.

“Let me go!”

“It’s for your own good.”

“You don’t get to decide that.”

Will pulled her to him. His dark eyes were something Hernan didn’t like. He wanted to move between them, but his hand went right through Will. He was like a ghost. He couldn’t do anything but watch the scene unfold.

Tina seemed to see it too as she tried to move away but Will’s strength kept her in place.

“I asked your father for your hand.” Tina suddenly stopped her struggle, realizing what Will was trying to say. “As my future wife, I place your life over Kirk’s. Please, Tina, leave before you catch ill too.”

She snatched her hand back. “At least let me say goodbye.”

“Fine.”

She moved slowly over to Kirk, whispering to him so softly that even Hernan nor Will could hear what she said. Even so, Hernan could see the tears she did not shed, and the faint smile that crossed Kirk’s features.

 _‘Goodbye,’_ Hernan could see the pale lips form. Tina lingered for a moment longer before rushing past Will.

Only when Will was sure that she had left, did he move to approach Kirk’s bed.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, friend, but surely you understand.”

Kirk nodded. Will smiled in return.

“I knew you’d understand.”

“Congratulations,” Kirk said slowly. His eyes had seemed dry, but the feeling behind them were genuine. “Please... take good care of her.”

“I promise I will do whatever it takes to make her happy.”

Although Hernan didn’t like the look in Will’s eyes earlier, the young man’s lips were set in a hard, determined line. There was no doubt that that was what he wished to do, but whether he could, Hernan wasn’t so sure.

“Nonetheless, what can I do for you? What can I do to ease the pain?” Will knelt beside Kirk’s bed. He reached to hold the frail hand in his.

“There is nothing… I’m afraid my time has come.”

“There must be something.”

“Please, Will, do not cry.” blue eyes drifted upward to his friend as Will pressed the frail hand against his cheek. Kirk didn’t move to stop him. Like with Tina, he allowed Will to mourn silently, and Hernan in turn looked away. It wasn’t a scene for him to look upon.

“W-Why?” Will choked. “Why did it have to be you?”

Kirk closed his eyes softly. “God has a plan for all of us… I wish he could have been kinder… to have given me a little more time.” Kirk gently squeezed Will’s hand. “I was so close, Will… I made the serum, but I collapsed before I could use it.”

“Are you saying I can save you?”

“I’m saying we can try.”

“Where is it?”

No, this couldn’t be good. Hernan knew there were miracles. He had been alive long enough to see things that could be called godly, but the way he saw Will’s hand shake around the powder… this couldn’t be right.

“You better live through this, you bastard.”

“Please, Will…”

Will visibly steeled himself. He took off his double-breasted jacket and rolled his sleeves up past his elbows. He mixed the power in the liquid Kirk had instructed to, and then moved to sit Kirk up so that he may drink the concoction.

All the while, his hand around the cup was uncertain in its movements as pale blue eyes watched his friend.

“Before I give you this, please tell me, are you really a witch?”

Kirk seemed to laugh, but his lungs did not allow him too. Instead it came as a cough although he managed a small smile by the end of it.

“You think… I bewitched you?”

“All I know is that I do not feel I am of right mind. You seem to have that effect on me. I can find no other explanation for this effect other than magic.”

“The only way… to test your hypothesis… is if I live… or die.”

“Please live, my friend.” Will moved to pour the concoction down Kirk’s throat. Kirk struggled to swallow but he did most of it.

Will jumped back as if Kirk were to suddenly come to life, but nothing of the sort resulted. Instead Kirk breathed deeply, and then rested his eyes once more.

“It may… take time.”

“I see.” Will moved to clean the mess he made by Kirk’s side. When the evidence was disposed of, he tucked Kirk back into bed. “Rest well, dearest friend.”

Hernan slowly shut his eyes. It was the end. He could feel it. He did not know who this young man was, but even so, he did not wish to see him die.

Why was he here? Why was he watching this? He shouldn’t be here. This was not something he should view.

“Kirk?”

Hernan glanced up. To his surprise, Kirk was standing upon his bed. His head was bowed as hands seemed to claw at his skull in pain.

Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

“Kirk!”

Will rushed to help his friend, only to have the wind knocked out of him. Kirk had lunged at Will, forcefully pushing him down. His skin was paler than before. It lost its sickly yellow tint to now porcelain white.

It was unnatural.

“Kirk!” Will struggled to shove Kirk away, but a claw pushed Will’s head down. A claw. Those hands were not a man’s. They were long with nails that drew blood across Will’s cheek.

“Kirk!” Will cried again as he stopped struggling. It was then Kirk’s hold seemed to slacken, and eyes that were once a pale blue were now a blood red. They peered down at the bloodied face, a face he knew, loved…

“Will… I’m sorry.”

Kirk pushed himself away from Will, and backed away. His steps were uneven. He stumbled backwards and clawed at his head as if in pain. Hernan had made to move as soon as he noticed where he was heading.

“Wait… no!”

He moved to hold Kirk back, but once again, his hand went right through, and Kirk went through the window. Hernan ran to the edge of the window. Looking down, he expected to see Kirk’s disfigured body, but he saw nothing.

There was nothing.

Although before Hernan could question where Kirk had gone, when he looked up, there across the night sky flew a white bat.


	4. Chapter 4

_‘Kirk!’_ Hernan woke up with a start.

Immediately he rushed to his jacket at the end of his mat, and reached into the pocket.

Empty.

It was empty. No, that couldn’t be. Hernan went to check all the pockets and even shook the garment for good measure, but the bat was gone.

He went to check the other four corners of the room when a shot fired through the dark.

“Hernan!”

Hernan grabbed his sword from the corner of the room, and slipped his jacket over his shoulders. He had no time to worry about the missing bat. By the time he had his things, Bekka was standing at the front doors of the church waiting for him.

She moved to say something, but Hernan knew.

“We need to go. It may be just the two of us, but that has never been a problem before.” Hernan couldn’t help the smirk that tugged the corner of his lips. He could feel his blood beginning to simmer – not in rage, but in bloodlust.

“Find some high ground. I’ll take the vanguard.”

“Lieutenant, there you are! The town is—”

“Father, please keep the church doors open for anyone seeking sanctuary. We will protect the surrounding area.”

“Just the two of you?” Hernan sent the priest a look that dared him to stop him. He understood. “May God be with you.”

Hernan bowed his head in thanks, and then he was off. He could hear the horses galloping through the streets, soldiers advancing on all sides, and the town’s people screaming.

“Head to the church!” Hernan told them, picking people up from the ground to urge them to move, not stay frozen in fear. Another fire of a pistol, and people were falling.

He drew out his sword. He could use pistols as well, but he was most familiar with the weight of a blade due to centuries of wielding one. Meanwhile, he could hear Bekka shooting from the rooftops, dodging shots fired back as he attacked from below.

They fired at him, but the metal never pierced. Hernan had to laugh.

“You’re not much of a shot, are you?” He slashed through them like a hurricane. His speed at times seemed invisible to the naked eye, as he left a trail of death in his wake. Nothing could hit him. Nothing could hurt him. Nothing could stop him.

“Hernan, the church!”

Hernan followed Bekka’s line of sight. He saw a soldier chasing a woman up the path to the church. With the many people around them, Hernan couldn’t transform his legs fully to make the jump. Instead, he swiftly tore off a wooden piece from a broken wagon, and hurled it through the air like a spear.

It struck its target.

The man fell to his knees and his hands grappled at the piece of wood now lodged through his gut. The woman screamed, but was pulled to safety by members of the clergy.

 Hernan moved on. He continued to slash his way through the enemy troops. Their cries joined the cries of the town’s people – all blending into one. Hernan didn’t stop to wonder whether they cried because of their attackers, or the ruthlessness Hernan seemed to use when he tore through the assailants. One would hope it was the former.

“Hide.” Hernan would instruct the able bodied. If he saw one wounded, there was nothing he could do for them at that moment. He had to move on. 

He kept on moving, and only paused when he heard Bekka calling from above.

“Hernan, they’re starting to retreat, but they’ve taken a captive on the Southside.”

“I’ll go after them. You pick up the stragglers, and make sure those who are wounded are moved to the church.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Bekka leapt from one rooftop to the other, laying down fire on the remaining enemy soldiers. Hernan headed the opposite direction. He took out those he ran across, but his main focus was those who were captured. He could hear their muffled cries from the edge of the forest.

Hernan picked up the pace.

He leapt into the woods, not caring for the sound he made. The only sound that mattered was the muffled cries he heard. He followed it carefully until they suddenly stopped. Did they kill their captive?

Hernan was dreading the worst. He made his way through the underbrush more careful than how he first entered. He listened, hearing more heartbeats than one. However, before he could fully discern them, the cry returned.

He moved.

It was a child. Hernan saw them clearly now huddled at the base of a tree. Their small hands covered their eyes as they cried. Hernan moved faster.

He knew it was a trap. He knew they left the child to cry in order to lure him, but Hernan was fearless. He rushed to the child’s aid, and bent down to see if they had inflicted any harm upon the girl.

“Are you hurt?” Hernan asked, but she only continued to cry. He needed to get her out of there.

As he went to pick her up, her eyes grew big. Hernan had seen the shadow before them grow, but his first instincts was to shield her. He moved her behind him as he pivoted on his heel, sword drawn to block any blow from the assailant that snuck behind him.

It never came.

Instead the man stood before Hernan paralyzed. His eyes bulged from his skull while his mouth gaped open trying to catch whatever air he could. Meaty hands clawed at his throat – clawed at long pale fingers that wrapped around his neck.

Someone – something was choking him.

“Oi!”

Hernan turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. They were not alone.

“Go!” Hernan urged the little girl to her feet, and pushed her towards the direction of the town. Not looking back, she ran.

Hernan lunged at the first person to come from the underbrush. Steel clashed, but the angered cries from behind him persisted.

He spared a glance, fast enough to catch the body of the strangled man flying to collide with another.

_‘What on ear—?’_

Hernan’s blade was suddenly knocked to the side.  He dodged the blow aimed at his head with a swift sidestep, and ran his blade clean through the enemy’s side. With a kick to the gut, the man fell with his blood spilling into his hands.

It was over.

Hernan turned ready to face off the other foes who had tried to ambush him, but only one person was left standing.

Pale skin was illuminated in a pool of moonlight, and pale hands were bathed in red. Red splattered across his arms, his legs, his stomach – his pale shoulders doted red… but what drew Hernan’s eyes was the red trickling down the side of blood-stained lips.

Any rational being would be horrified, but Hernan did not back away. Rather his feet blindly moved closer. He knew those lips, those hands, the breath that trembled through hollow bones.

“Kirk…”

Red eyes met his gaze as if noticing Hernan for the first time. The man lurched back, his step faltering in hesitation, but in the end made up its mind.

Before him no longer stood a man, but a bat. The creature fled.

“Wait!”

Hernan was quick to sprout his wings as he flew after the creature. With his larger wingspan, it wasn’t hard for him to catch up to the white bat. His clawed hand reached through the clouds, and grabbed the creature in midair.

It shrieked – screamed in his hold. It sank its fangs through his skin, and squirmed in his hand.

“Hold on; I don’t want to hurt you.” Hernan’s words fell upon deaf ears for as soon as they came, the bat had left.

Hernan’s clenched fingers were forced open as the bat had transformed. Then Hernan saw red eyes large with fright. He went to reached for him, but gravity was faster.

“Mierda…”

Hernan dove after the falling man. When he enveloped him in his hold, he didn’t fight back.

Hernan hit the ground first. His back collided with the Earth with such force, he felt the ground beneath give way.

Dirt showered over them from the crater they left behind but Hernan wasted no time. He forced the creature – man down beneath him with his arm across the pale throat.

“Who are you?”

The creature coughed, gasped at the sudden landing. His claws reached for Hernan’s arm and dug into the flesh.

Hernan winced. It was subtle, but it was there. It was a sharp pain for a second before it was a numbing burn.

Blood. A row of blood ran down the tracks the claws had left behind.

The creature could cut through his scales. It could hurt him.

Hernan’s hold on him remained unyielding as he asked again. “Who are you?”

“Who are you?” the creature tossed back at him. “You are no man.”

“You’re one to speak.”

The creature huffed sardonically. “Neither of us are men, but you bleed like one.”

Hernan could feel the creature swallow beneath his bleeding arm. Was the bat hungry? Hernan could see the white fangs peeking beneath the creature’s bloodied lips as it breathed deeply yet it didn’t make a move towards Hernan. Rather its body canted away from him.

Hernan pressed on. “Are you Kirk?”

Red eyes flashed away from the restricting arm up to Hernan, surprised before narrowing like a viper’s. “How do you know that name?”

“So you are Kirk.”

“I do not go by that name anymore.”

“What are you doing here?”

Kirk laughed, but the mirth was short lived. A painful wheeze broke through him. “You ask as if I want to be here, beneath you.”

Hernan lessened his hold, but remained atop of Kirk. “I will ask again, what business do you have being here?”

 “I have none. I have no inkling as to where _here_ is.”

Hernan moved off of him. He brushed the dirt from his clothes as Kirk took in a deep breath before another coughing fit tore at his ribs.

“Are you alright?” Hernan bent down, but the red eyes were no kinder to Hernan’s sudden moment of sympathy.

“I do not need your assistance.” Kirk brushed him off. His hand gripped his side as it was then Hernan realized he was bleeding.

“Let me.” Hernan moved to help him, but Kirk bared his fangs hissing.

“Don’t touch me.”

Hernan ignored the feral creature’s warning. He tore a part of his shirt and handed the cloth to Kirk. “Here, use this to swath the wound. I’ll fly you back to the church.”

“What makes you think I’d go with you?”

“Because you have no other choice.”

Kirk could say no more. Before he knew it, he was in the air again with Hernan holding him securely to his chest.

“Unhand me!” Kirk yelled at him, but he didn’t struggle against him. Rather he held on tightly to Hernan in fear of dropping again.

“You can transform into a bat.” Hernan stated rather than asked. “Do you think you can transform again?”

“Not now, no.”

“I see, then I’ll have to sneak you in another way.” Hernan had dropped them off at the edge of the forest. Kirk pushed himself out of Hernan’s hold, stumbling as he did so. The wince did not go unnoticed from Hernan.

“Cover yourself with this.”

“I don’t need this; I’m not going with you.”

Hernan wouldn’t hear it. If Kirk wouldn’t take the offered coat, then Hernan would have to do it. He securely wrapped the large coat over Kirk before picking up the man once more. He weighed nothing to Hernan, but that didn’t make him easy to carry. Kirk had kicked back.

“Y-You can’t just take me.”

“I’m trying to help you. Now settle down,” Hernan warned. “We don’t want anyone to see you.”

The warning seemed to work the closer they got to town. Kirk remained still in Hernan’s arms, and used the coat to shield his face from view.

As they got closer, Hernan could hear soft crying from the streets. It was not a wailing howl like before, nor did there seem to be a large ominous cloud of smoke. For him, that was a victory.

He snuck through the back of the church to his closet-size of a room where he placed Kirk on the small mat at last.

Kirk seemed grateful for finally being let go, and he surprisingly didn’t make a run for the door. Hernan supposed it would be impossible to get past him in the size of the room they were in. Nonetheless, he remained wary.

“If I leave, are you going to run?”

Red eyes narrowed at him. “This sounds more like a kidnapping than aid, but no, I won’t.”

Hernan wanted to correct Kirk, but there wasn’t time to. Hopefully in time, Kirk would see that Hernan was just helping him. Not only was Hernan helping him, but Hernan was curious himself as to who Kirk was.

From the dreams, Hernan saw Kirk was an experimentation gone wrong. He was turned into a beast who had the strength or properties that could harm him when for centuries, no one could hurt him.

Perhaps it was wisest of Hernan to have left Kirk to die, or to have ended it right there in the crater he had made. With his strength, he could have crushed Kirk’s skull, but instead he brought him with him once again.

It was most likely because he was injured, Hernan liked to think. He wouldn’t kill an already bleeding animal, but he also thought it hard to kill an animal once you’ve nursed it back to health. All he could hope for now was that Kirk wouldn’t kill him, and he in turn wouldn’t have to put Kirk down.

But for now, he had other matters.

“Father, have you news to report?”

“Lieutenant, at last you’ve returned. We are quickly running out of space, and resources. When do you think your men will be arriving?”

“Hopefully by tomorrow,” Hernan assured. “Have you counted the wounded.”

“There are not as many this time, and only minor. We were able to take care of the injured, but we may not be able to continue to care for them. We must start prioritizing the ones healthy and alive.”

“Just give them another day, Father. Hopefully we will not have to succumb to such rationing.”

“Yes, may God help us.”

Hernan couldn’t help the deprecating smile that tugged upon his lips. “Yes, may God have mercy.”

“Hernan.” Hernan turned to see Bekka. “Where have you been? Excuse me, Father.”

“I must be going.” the priest wisely steered clear of Bekka’s wrath. Hernan wished he could do the same.

“Something came up.” Hernan feigned nonchalance.

“Something came up?” Bekka parroted incredulously. “Were you finding a lead?”

“No, but may I borrow your cloak?”

“Hernan.” Bekka gritted her teeth in warning, but was nonetheless removing her cloak for him.

“Thank you, Bekka. I promise I’ll explain and show you later, but right now I need to go.” Hernan took the cloak from her but before he could go, she tugged his arm right back to her.

“Hernan your shirt!” she yelled in a hushed tone as to not draw attention to themselves.

“My…” Hernan realized the back of his shirt must have torn when he flew after Kirk. He didn’t have the time nor sense to remove it before he took flight.

“Where’s your coat? You need to cover it least someone questions you.”

“It’s in my room, and if someone questions me, I will say it was torn mid battle.”

Bekka didn’t look convinced. “I’ll mend it. Drop it off at my door before you retire for the night.”

“Thank you, Bekka, but really, I must get going.” he took leave of her before she could say another word, at least to him. What she muttered under her breath was scathing, and had Hernan not been in a rush, he would have laughed.

He made his rounds around the church, making sure those that were critically wounded were making progress since the last time he had seen them. If they did not get better soon, Hernan knew the priest would cut them of resources first. It was never an easy decision to make, but it was the one that would save the most lives. He knew it, and although he was no stranger to death, it didn’t make seeing the damned any easier.

He had taken longer than he had hoped, but when he returned to his room, Kirk was surprisingly right where he had left him. He hadn’t run. He simply tucked himself in the farthest corner from the door, and bared his fangs like a feral beast when Hernan entered.

“Slow, it’s alright.” Hernan spoke slowly, although he couldn’t help but remember the first few nights he had the bat, the first time he had spoken to the creature when it struggled in his hold. He had spoken the same words then as he did now. By the way Kirk ceased bearing his fangs, it would seem he remembered the words too.

Nonetheless, he remained in a tight ball in the corner with his knees drawn up closely to his chest. The dark coat remained draped over his shoulders, leaving only his pale, bloodied legs uncovered. The blood wasn’t his, but the fact didn’t unsettle Hernan in the slightest.

“May I?” Hernan slightly lifted the bowl of water in his hands as a silent elucidation that he wished to clean him.

Kirk bared his fangs once more. “I do not see how you benefit from any of this.”

“Why would I need to benefit from taking care of you?” Hernan moved closer despite Kirk’s body completely canting away from his advances.

“Nonsense, there must be something.”

“I promise you, there is nothing I seek to gain from this.” Hernan settled at the opposite end of the mat from Kirk. “Now, are you going to let me clean you?”

Kirk remained guarded. He warily eyed the water before looking up at Hernan. After some time of neither of them moving, he unfurled himself from his corner.

“If you insist on it, may I at least do it myself?”

Hernan nodded and handed Kirk the rag to do so. Kirk carefully took it before dipping it in the water. Red eyes widened in surprise.

“It’s warm.”

Hernan laughed. “I was… in a rush when melting the snow.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“I can breathe fire.”

Kirk’s hand stilled for a moment before he scoffed. “Of course you do. So what are you exactly? A dragon?”

“Only half.”

“How does that work?” Kirk asked as he started to wash the blood from his legs.

“My father was a dragon, and my mother was human. My father had shapeshifting abilities that allowed him to shift to a more human form, and thus I was born.”

“I see, and you too have this shapeshifting ability.” Kirk more so stated than asked.

“Yes, but not to the extent of my father. He was a true dragon, I am but half. Thus, I can only transform parts of my body but not the whole.” To further explain, Hernan transformed his bare chest into dragon scales. The scales were scarlet red. Under the flickering candlelight, small iridescent rainbows seemed to dash over the overlapping scales, causing Kirk’s hand to still once more.

It was beautiful.

“I usually transform my body like this during battle. It makes my heart impenetrable.” Hernan transformed fully back into his human form, as Kirk swiftly averted his gaze to cleaning himself.

Kirk had finished with his legs. He moved to shrug Hernan’s coat from his shoulders, allowing the dark material to pool into his lap.

Hernan had watched. He kept careful watch for the wounds around Kirk’s torso. With them finally revealed, he could look at them more closely to see what looked like a jagged partly-healed over gash starting from his ribs and wrapping around to Kirk’s back.

“Were you attacked by a human?”

Kirk moved to cover himself with the coat once more and turned his body away from Hernan’s prying gaze. “It’s none of your concern.”

“Those are no marks from an animal. When I first found you, I assumed it was the cats that had attacked you.” Kirk remained silent, allowing Hernan to press further. “I apologize if my question has offended you. Please, continue cleaning your wounds least they get infected.”

“Why should you care?” red eyes glared back at him. “You say you are a dragon half breed, but yet you still confound me. Why are you doing this?”

Hernan knew there was no rational explanation to his actions. Kirk could hurt him, possibly kill him, and yet he had taken him in. Kirk seemed to still be wild in some ways, and ready to strike if Hernan so much as took a wrong step, and yet Hernan still tried to look after him. It was like taming a wild animal, but Hernan didn’t want to think of Kirk as an animal. That would be hypocritical of him.

No, he wanted to find solidarity. He wanted to find common ground with Kirk. Both of them were like no other. Both of them were defined as monsters, or even gods, but he didn’t want either of them to feel that way.

Kirk used to be a man, and judging by his actions earlier that night when he attacked those men from harming the child or Hernan, spoke to his human heart. Kirk wasn’t a monster, and Hernan would prove it to him.

So, Hernan smiled and pushed the water bowl closer to Kirk.

“Because you were hungry,” he simply answered. Kirk was still hungry for life, and Hernan would grant it to him. Was it foolish? Perhaps so, and the bewildered look Kirk gave him was confirmation to his insanity.

“I do not understand you,” Kirk conceded, yet he turned facing Hernan once more, which was enough to set Hernan at ease.

“Not now, but I hope in time you will,” Hernan replied. “Now, let’s get you cleaned and as a reward I will feed you.”

Kirk’s crimson eyes looked at Hernan with a kind of hunger akin to that of an animal, and yet his lips were drawn thinly in restraint.

“I feel as though you mock me.”

“On the contrary, as I said before, you are hungry, and thus I shall feed you. I fed you in your bat form, why should this be any different?”

“I should have known you weren’t human by the taste of your blood.”

“Now you mock me.” Hernan feigned offense. “Nonetheless, you need blood to survive, am I mistaken?”

Kirk seemed to swallow in resigned confirmation.

“Then you may feed from me. In return, I wish for you to guard me.”

Kirk shook his head. “You are truly mad.”

Hernan smiled. “It may seem so, but your actions earlier this evening have impressed me. I wish for you to continue watching my back.”

Kirk scoffed. “It was a repayment, nothing more.”

“I’m asking for you to do so again. If you have another source of food, then by all means, you may go once you’re healthy enough to do so. Although I think this arrangement would be beneficial for the both of us.”

“I still think you’re mad.” Kirk dipped the rag into the water bowl once more if not with more force than before. “I will be leaving as soon as I can transform again.”

“Very well,” Hernan conceded. “Then I will protect you in the meantime.”

“I don’t need your protection.”

“Of course not, mi pequeño.”

Hernan only laughed as he dodged the rag aimed at him. It would be a long few days following that night, but Hernan was sure he could change Kirk’s mind by the end of it.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

 

The first few nights were not easy. The first night Kirk had reluctantly finished cleaning himself with the ever-present threat that Hernan would take over if he didn’t. Water was splattered, spills were made, and Kirk and Hernan remained cold, wet, and apart for the remainder of the night.

By sunrise, Kirk was thankfully sound asleep. Hernan had cleaned up from the mess they had made, and went about his day as usual. It was as if Kirk were still in his bat form. Hernan was only reminded that he wasn’t by evening.

When evening came, Hernan skillfully evaded Bekka’s questioning look, and returned to his room just as Kirk was just about to wake. Hernan would then roll up his sleeve and present his wrist for Kirk to feed.

Kirk was reluctant.

“You certainly didn’t hesitate when you were a bat,” Hernan had remarked. Red eyes narrowed at Hernan, but Kirk didn’t retort. Instead he slowly edged closer on his knees.

Pale fingers gently wrapped around Hernan’s tanned wrist, and brought it closer to Kirk’s pointed fangs. Hernan watched. He thought seeing the fangs sink in would lessen the sudden pain, but it didn’t. It shot up his arm for a split second before it numbed all together.

All he could feel was warmth. It was the warmth of his blood as it flowed to his wrist, the press of warm lips against his skin, and the heated tongue which ran against the puncture wounds.

Kirk’s head was bowed so Hernan couldn’t see his face, but Hernan imaged it was relatively the same as to when he was a bat somehow. His eyes would be half-lidded, and his chest would rise slowly in a calming rhythm. If only Kirk still had his ears, Hernan smiled at the thought. They would be pointed back akin to a cat, and if Hernan scratched his chin, the bat would purr.

Kirk suddenly pulled away at the feeling of fingers tickling his chin.

“W-what are you doing?” Kirk looked vexed, but the look was strangely less damning by the small trail of blood that ran down the side of Kirk’s mouth.

Hernan gently wiped at it even as Kirk recoiled from the touch.

He smiled. “My apologies. Old habits.”

Kirk huffed. “That’s enough, thank you.”

“Of course,” Hernan said. “In return, I have a favor to ask of you.”

“A favor?”

“Yes, you were a physician’s assistant, were you not?”

“I was, but how did you—”

“I have a few patients I wish for you to see. If they don’t get well soon, the church will have to let them go,” Hernan interjected. He noted that Kirk didn’t seem to know of the dreams Hernan saw, but it did affirm that there was truth to them.

“I see,” Kirk replied. “Very well. If you can promise I won’t be seen, take me to them.”

Kirk wrapped the dark cloak around his shoulders, and pulled the hood up so it came to shield the top half of his face. Once Kirk was ready, Hernan led him out of his small room to the chapel where the severely wounded were held.

He kept watch from the entrance while Kirk got a closer look at the few.

“Some seem to be infected,” Kirk spoke softly, but Hernan heard him perfectly.

“Is there anything we can do?” Hernan asked equally as soft.

“I do know some things, but I do not believe you have the tools necessary.” Kirk stood up and approached the exit where Hernan stood. “Also, the snow is just beginning to thaw, so what I need will most likely not have grown yet.”

“Then I will take you to a place where they have sprung.”

“Are you saying you can fly to the Mediterranean overnight?”

“Is that where we need to go?”

Kirk sighed. “We need marigolds, and plenty of them.”

“Then Mediterranean it is.”

Kirk didn’t have much time to look surprised, or even question Hernan before Hernan had guided him to the back of the church, and up into the air.

Once more, Hernan held Kirk close to his chest. The cloak kept Kirk warm, but what seemed to help the most was Hernan himself. The amount of heat his body emanated, was of great comfort to Kirk for he clung to Hernan closely.

“it won’t be long. We’re almost there.”

“Already?” Kirk shouted against the winds that flew past them.

Hernan laughed at Kirk’s shock. He normally didn’t fly as fast when he had someone else, but Kirk seemed more inclined to the cold than Bekka, and could handle the rush of flying fast.

As promised, Hernan landed promptly in what he had spotted to be a field of marigolds.

“Marigolds.” Hernan set Kirk down as he breathed deeply. The only side effect to flying fast was the amount of air he needed. Kirk was nonetheless amazed even as Hernan doubled over and eventually took a seat.

“Are we really—”

“Maybe,” Hernan answered, already knowing what Kirk was going to ask. “It’s hard to… really discern borders, but I saw yellow… and marigolds.”

“You really outdid yourself.” Kirk more so stated than asked. The smirk did not go amiss either by Hernan.

“Thank you.”

“This will hopefully do.” Kirk looked at the marigolds which surrounded them. It would have to do.  

He carefully used his cloak as a pouch to place the plucked marigolds in. Hernan helped once he felt he had sufficiently caught his breath for the flight back.

“So marigolds will fight the infection?”

“It should,” Kirk replied. “I don’t have the time nor the tools to crush them into oil, but I should be able to make compresses from their heads.”

Hernan nodded. Marigolds were an old thing, Hernan thought. He remembered kings drinking from water infused with marigold petals and salads with dried petals to fight off illness. Even soldiers during times of war would press daisy petals into their wounds.

“You said earlier, I was a physician’s apprentice. How did you know?” Kirk turned to look back at Hernan. He had not forgotten so easily.

“I had dreams of you,” Hernan tried to explain. “Since the night I picked you up, I’ve had dreams of parts of your life. It’s how I recognized you in your form now – how I know the name Kirk.”

“I… I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“I’m not sure whether it is an ability you can control or not, but I did not see into your past on purpose,” Hernan promised which Kirk seemed to believe for the moment as he continued on picking up marigolds.

“If that is the case… what did you see?”

“I first saw Tina,” Hernan confessed. Kirk’s hand paused for a moment but he continued on as did Hernan. “She met you in the fields when you were reading.”

“I somehow remember. I mean, it’s a memory, but I remember dreaming of it.”

“Then perhaps I am connected to your dreams,” Hernan hypothesized.

“I don’t know whether I should be concerned or not.” Hernan turned to see the wary smile reluctantly tug the corners of Kirk’s lips. “So, you know more about me than I you.”

“You may ask me what you like.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” Kirk admitted.

“Well, then I’ll just talk. I’ve been told I’m very good at it.” Hernan caught the small smile from Kirk. “When I looked at your memories, when I saw you with your friends, it reminded me of my own friend. I’ve made several over the years, but she is currently the one I hold most dear. I hope to introduce you two soon.”

“Are you sure that’s for the best?”

“You can trust Bekka,” Hernan assured. “I’ve known her ever since she was a child. She was alone and afraid – very much like how I found you. But she wished to learn how to fight in order to survive, and so I taught her. Perhaps too much, but she has become my confidant in more ways than I ever thought she would be. She knows of what I am, and therefore I trust her with your secret as well.”

“I see,” Kirk said. “How many know about you?”

“Who are alive? Three: Bekka, the Queen, and now you.”

“Why do say alive as a question?”

“I say it because there are those I’ve shared my secret with who are no longer alive, and then those who do not live to tell the tale. I have fought many wars in which I’ve been recruited as a… secret weapon, so to speak, and some from either side may discover who I am. I therefore eliminate them.”

“You kill them?”

“In order to protect myself and those closest to me, yes. I thought the best way was to eliminate them. However, I have grown wiser over the years – one could only hope after being alive for so long – I do not make the same foolish mistakes I once did. I’m much more careful with protecting who I am in hopes that I would not have to eliminate anyone.” Kirk grew silent, as his expression was unreadable.

“Do you think less of me?” Hernan ventured to ask.

“I’m not sure.”

Hernan nodded in understanding. “What you should understand about me, is that I am merciful as I am ruthless. I do not bite unless provoked.”

“You speak as if you were a god.”

“Some cultures have viewed me as such.”

“Cultures?”

“I was in the East for a while. They too had dragons, but they were more serpentine, and were gods of the mountains and winds. I was a god of war.”

“So I’ve been drinking blood from a god,” Kirk deadpanned. “Lucky me.”

“Lucky you.” Hernan laughed.

Kirk shook his head. “This is all I can carry, I believe.”

“Then let’s head back before the sun rises.”

Kirk nodded in agreement, and held onto the large bundle of marigolds he had as he waited for Hernan to lift him up.

He didn’t struggle in Hernan’s hold anymore. One would think that he was perhaps getting used to it, but Hernan thought better than to ask. Instead he lifted off holding Kirk closely to him. Kirk even leaned closer to seek out warmth.

Hernan went slower than he had before so that not a bud fell from Kirk’s grasp. When they arrived at the edge of the forest, Hernan didn’t set Kirk down.

“Are you going to carry me the whole way?” Kirk asked as he raised his hood to shield himself from dawn’s rays of light that streaked across the sky.

“Your feet are bare, and the ground has yet to thaw,” Hernan explained. He expected Kirk to argue further, but he seemed to except Hernan’s answer and allowed the half-dragon to carry him all the way to the back of the church before Hernan reached to grab the shirt he had discarded earlier.

It was then the back door swung open.

The two of them froze.

“Hernan!”

“Bekka.” Hernan plastered a smile over his features, but Bekka wasn’t falling for it. Her blue eyes looked from Hernan half-way putting on his shirt to the cloaked figure – her cloak, standing a little behind him.

“Who’s that?”

“I’ll explain, but first we should get inside.” Hernan took a hold of Kirk’s wrist to guide him inside. Kirk didn’t resist. He stayed close behind Hernan as he kept his head low from Bekka’s inspection.

Hernan somehow crammed the three of them in his closet-spaced room where Kirk remained behind him and Bekka by the door as if holding them hostage.

“Now are you going to finally tell me what’s going on?” Bekka questioned.

“Bekka, this is Kirk. Kirk, this is Bekka,” Hernan introduced slowly. Even so, Kirk didn’t step from behind Hernan. The action was akin to a small child hiding behind his mother’s skirt, but Hernan was wise not to voice such a comparison.

Instead he went on to explain further. “Several days ago, I picked up a white bat, and I showed him to you. Well… this is my white bat.”

Bekka was silent. Her blue eyes tried to peer past Hernan’s shoulder to the cloaked figure from behind, but she could only see the pale tip of his nose. Although, just the pallor of the nose might have been enough for her to see a similarity.

“I don’t understand. He’s a shapeshifter?”

“Yes, like me in a way, except with bat characteristics.”

“So… a vampire?” Bekka questioned softly.

Hernan felt the uneasy shift of Kirk behind him at the single word – vampire. Essentially, Kirk was one. Hernan couldn’t deny it, but he didn’t confirm it either; he couldn’t. He did not know if such creatures actually existed, but Kirk had an uncanny resemblance to the deadly, fabled creatures.

As if reading Hernan’s mind, Kirk at last spoke up.

“I do not know how to define myself.” he stepped away from Hernan, and lifted his head to reveal red eyes. “But I am no man.”

Blue eyes widened in surprise at the red which reflected back at her. His complexion was much paler than she had first discerned, and beneath his upper lip peeked pointed fangs.

She blinked once – twice – before she couldn’t help the smile of disbelief pass over his features. She didn’t doubt Kirk being a vampire. What she questioned was how Hernan, of all people, picked up a vampire from the middle of the woods, and still decide to shelter it after finding out his little bat was actually a blood-sucking vampire.

Well… Hernan has done worse things, Bekka tried to tell herself. This wasn’t the craziest thing he had done, although perhaps the weirdest.

Bekka laughed inwardly at the thought. “Well, what are we to do now?”

“Nothing,” Kirk replied simply. “Once I’m fully well, I will be leaving.”

“Yes.” Hernan coughed. He could feel a pair of red eyes glaring at the back of skull, but his features remained unyielding. “After Kirk is healed, he’ll be leaving us. This is only temporary shelter.”

“I see.” Bekka didn’t look convinced but nonetheless conceded. “Very well. If that is the case, then as Major General – no as a friend of Hernan’s – I will help protect you from view as well.”

“You have my thanks, Major.”

Bekka smiled at the title, but shook her head. “Please, call me Bekka.”

Kirk returned the smile, and lowered his hood so that she could look at him more closely. However, when Bekka approached him carefully, it was not to inspect him. Instead she looked down at the many flowers he held.

“What’s this?”

It was Kirk’s turn to be surprised, but he quickly recovered. “Marigolds.”

“Where did you find marigolds at this time?”

“We flew south,” Hernan answered. “Kirk needs them for the sick in the chapel.”

“Oh, you’re a doctor?” Bekka looked even more confused, but she was no doubt impressed.

“Not exactly…” Kirk turned away from her prying gaze. Was he shy? Hernan refrained from commenting.

“Well, thank you. They could use all the help they can get.”

Kirk silently nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure you will. Well, it was lovely to meet you, but I should get going. I suspect the other troops will be arriving shortly.” Bekka gave a departing smile before leaving.

A sigh of relief seemed to escape from Kirk as soon as the door closed behind her.

“Oh, it was not that bad.” Hernan laughed.

“No… but like you said, the less who know, the better.” Kirk carefully set the makeshift flower pouch on the mat. “I’ll need a bowl of water to soak these in.”

“Right away.”

“Then I’m afraid I’m a little weary, so I should rest.”

“Of course, mi pequeño.”

Kirk had nothing to throw at him but a red glare. Hernan smiled all the same.

The golden heads of the marigolds soaked in the bowl of water and cloth all day before Kirk gently folded them, and used them as dressings against the wounds that had refused to heal. Hernan watched as Kirk carefully redressed the wounds, taking care not to peel away healing skin or tear open the delicate stitching.

“Did you do these stitches?” Kirk asked softly.

“Yes, they’re not very good for I was in a hurry,” Hernan confessed.

“You did a nice job.”

Hernan was surprised, but smiled nonetheless. “Thank you. Hopefully you can do more for them.”

“I’ll try my best to,” Kirk promised once more.

The priest continued to grow more impatient with Hernan, but the supplies of more grain the troops brought seemed to quell the priest for now. However, it wouldn’t last long. The patients needed to get better soon if they ever had the chance of surviving the end of the war.

As Kirk visited them by night, Hernan worked during the day to help the town rebuild itself by chopping wood, hunting for food, and helping to fix vital infrastructure such as the mill. He did anything and everything to keep the priest from looking at those he sheltered at the church, to instead those who had their homes back.

“I don’t know how you do it, Lieutenant.” the priest stood before the fixed mill in amazement.

“I am a man of many trades.” Hernan smiled. “Hopefully we will soon be able to have some proper bread.”

“Yes, although it is truly a wonder to see what you and your men have been able to do.”

“It is our honor to serve the Queen and her constituents, Father.”

“Yes, may God bless the Queen, and may God bless you. Our people are truly thankful for your help.”

Hernan nodded, before he heard Bekka call him. He excused himself, and went to her side with a grateful sigh. “Thank you, Bekka.”

“Of course. You looked so pained, I had to save you as your Major.” Bekka teased. “Although I can’t save you from everything such as your own actions. Are you sure it is wise to keep Kirk?”

“I cannot say whether it is wise, and it is most likely folly, but it is right.”

Bekka looked wary, but she nodded nonetheless. She would follow Hernan to the edge of a cliff, but she would not hesitate to pull him back if or when he threated to fall off headfirst.

“I hope you’re right,” Bekka conceded.

“I know I am,” Hernan replied before quickly adding. “As usual.”   

He laughed at the punch to the arm. If Hernan were normal, the strike would have bruised surely. All it did was give Bekka a small sense of satisfaction, even if false, that she had knocked some sense into Hernan. One could only hope she did.

Well into the night, when Hernan was sure all were asleep, he slipped into the chapel with Kirk in tow. They checked on the patients once more. The marigold treatment seemed to be working.

“Nice job,” Hernan had noted. Kirk shook his head as Hernan was sure his lips moved to deny he had any doing in the matter, however, the words never came.

It was faint, but nonetheless there. Someone was coming.

Hernan swiftly took Kirk by the hand and moved to hide behind the many pillars. Much to Kirk’s hushed protest, Hernan pressed Kirk against the column.

“What are you—”

“Shh…” Hernan peered from around the column to the entrance of the chapel where two shadowed figures loomed.

Kirk remained silent.

“Bekka, you shouldn’t be here.”

Kirk seemed to stiffen at the familiar name, but Hernan kept him close as he continued to listen.

“You shouldn’t be here in the middle of night with me. People would find it indecent.”

“They already do, Steve. The question is, what do you think?” Steve grew quiet, so Bekka pressed on. “I do not mean to be so bold, but how long must we dance around the subject?”

“My family wouldn’t approve.”

“Because of my station? I may not have a dowry, but I have a title and—”

“That’s just it. You have a title – one greater than mine when I am a man.”

Hernan couldn’t help the balling of his fist and the tightening of his jaw. He was livid. He wanted to move, but a gentle hand over his stopped him. He looked down to see red eyes calm.

He stayed.

“I see…” It was Bekka’s turn to pause. “I don’t think any less of you because of my title and yours.”

“That’s not it, Bekka.” Steve laughed self-deprecatingly. “That’s what my parents think, not what I think. I think any man, regardless of rank or title, would be lucky to have you.”

“Steve…”

“But I cannot fathom what our future will hold. You are too important to be indisposed if you were to have a child.” Bekka moved to say more, but before she could, Steve continued. “And the child… our child, they would have two parents who fought… what if neither of us ever made it back?”

“Steve, you speak as though war is forever. It’s not. There will be an end and when that end is, is our beginning.”

“I hope you are right, Bekka. I hope we live to see the end for the sake of our beginning.”

A pregnant silence fell between them, as Hernan and Kirk quietly slipped away. They should have slipped away sooner. They had heard more than they should – Hernan knew – but Bekka… if anything had happened to her, Hernan would never forgive himself, and so he had stayed. He stayed to hear things he shouldn’t have.

Bekka would surely kill him if she knew, for she was in love. Hernan wasn’t sure how to process such a fact. He knew she had fancied Steve. He also knew Steve fancied Bekka in return, much to Hernan’s displeasure. And in the end, he knew he couldn’t stop Bekka from marrying whom she wished, but to love… to love Steve so deeply she would sacrifice possibly everything for him… well Hernan hadn’t known that.

He hadn’t known the depth of her affection for the Captain for honestly, he could not understand it. Yet again, it was not his place to. All he could do was bite his tongue and hope that Steve will make her happy for that’s what Bekka deserved the most. She deserved to be happy. If Steve could do that for her, then so be it.

Hernan looked beside him to Kirk, knowing these were not Kirk’s thoughts most likely. They sat side by side on a tree branch up high. Hernan had flown them up, and had taken Kirk with him. Perhaps it was another habit of Hernan’s he was picking up – to take Kirk into his arms. Who could say?

Although the look that seemed to shine through those red eyes was not one Hernan was expecting. He was expecting something indifferent, or perhaps pensive, but what he saw by the softness around his eyes, and the slight curve of his lips was wistfulness.

Did he miss Tina and Will?

“It is envy when you look upon the two,” Hernan spoke up.

Kirk huffed. “You envy them?”

“A love to melt away the rest of the world?” Hernan shook his head. “Or perhaps that is an ailment of the young.”

“You say that as if you’re old.”

“I am, by quite a few centuries.”

Kirk looked back surprised. “Centuries?”

Hernan smiled. “I’m old.”

Kirk couldn’t help the small smile that crept forth. “I suppose you are. That would explain the strangeness of your tales.”

“There you go again, mocking me.”

“I am only confirming what you claimed yourself old man… dragon-god?”

Hernan laughed. “I’m glad I can make you feel better.”

Red eyes widened in surprise before narrowing. “I was not—”

“Too late; the deed is done.” Hernan dropped off the branch, leaving Kirk fuming after him.

“Hernan!”


	6. Chapter 6

“Good evening.”

His feet soundlessly dropped to the carpet beneath the opened window before he bowed deeply before the Queen. “Your Highness.”

“You’ve been keeping busy.” Waller sat behind her desk where she rested her head poised upon the back of her hand. Her features looked weary, but there was nothing dull about those dark eyes.

“There has been much to do on our borders neighboring Gotham.”

“So the rumors were true.”

“I’m afraid so, however, not entirely. The only soldiers I was able to recognize were those of Lord Moxon.”

“I wasn’t aware Lord Moxon had an army.”

“Neither was I.”

“What proof do you have?”

“There was a sigil found at the scene. One of the attackers had it sewn to their coat.”

“That is not sufficient proof, but it is interesting,” Waller conceded. “Lord Moxon has been indisposed for quite some time. He suffered grave injuries in the battle last summer along our borders. I believe you were there.”

“I remember.”

“Then you should understand how queer it would be for Moxon to send his men along our borders once more.”

“It is indeed.”

“Perhaps they are searching for the heir.”

“The heir?” Hernan turned his attention away from the sparking fire to the darkness that was Waller’s eyes.

“Yes, my scouts in Gotham have informed me that the heir of Moxon has gone missing. If he has escaped to our borders… well I can’t see why he would.”

“Do you think the Moxons mean peace?”

“Let us hope that’s all it is, although we should prepare for the worst.”

“Of course, Amanda.”

“Hernan.” Her voice was sweet – sickly so. “Something’s on your mind.”

Hernan smiled. “Despite how I may carry myself, I am not without thought.”

“No one would dare accuse you of such. However, those thoughts, I cannot speak for.”

Hernan knew what she was insinuating since it was what she most teased him for. His promiscuous affairs in the court did not go unnoticed.

“You flatter me.”

“Most things do.” Waller thoughtfully tapped the corner of her desk, as if punctuating the seconds that went by where Hernan didn’t capitulate his thoughts.

Waller was dangerous, Hernan knew. Not in the sense that she could kill him, but she could pull strings Hernan could not. She was a grand puppet master in a way, and he a doll she could not string. However, the more people Hernan tied himself to, the more likely she could rope him – chain him. It was one of the many reasons why he didn’t Like Bekka so close to Captain Steve. It was also why Hernan wouldn’t tell her about Kirk.

“Very well. If you do not wish to share, then let me kindly remind you that even though I wear the crown, my powers only go so far,” she warned as Hernan knew she would. Her powers could not protect those he cared for, but she did have the power to make their lives more difficult if she so chose to.

“I must be going.” Hernan bowed. “Your Grace.”

Hernan swiftly flew back to the town, hoping Bekka and Kirk were getting along. He knew Bekka could have a temper, and Kirk wasn’t very afraid to fight back if he had to.

However, as he neared his door, what he heard was not screaming or crying, but rather laughter. The sound caused a smile to tug upon Hernan’s lips. He had worried over nothing.

“Has he given you the god of war talk yet?” Bekka laughed.

“I’m so glad you two are getting along.” Hernan finally made his presence known. Bekka still laughed as Kirk’s smile didn’t fade even as Hernan stood between them.

 For once, Hernan didn’t mind being the laughing stock.

“Welcome back.” Bekka’s laugh quelled, but her smile remained.

“I somehow doubt I was missed.”

“Aww.” Bekka’s laugh returned as she placed a comforting hand on Hernan’s shoulder. “If you were gone, who would we laugh at?”

A mirthful huff escaped Kirk, but he didn’t move to add anymore. Hernan went to lay his jacket down when Bekka stopped him.

“Kirk wants to try to fly tonight.”

“Oh? You think you’re ready?” Hernan looked over at Kirk once more, and again, Kirk didn’t need to say a thing. Hernan could see the determination in Kirk’s eyes.

“Very well.” Hernan wrapped his jacket around his shoulders. “We should do so now while everyone is still asleep.”

The three made their way out the back of the church and into a clearing in the woods. Hernan had offered to carry Kirk so he would not have to walk barefoot over the cold ground, but Kirk shook his head.

“My skin is cold to the touch. A little snow won’t change that.” Kirk went on ahead of him. Hernan had noticed how Kirk no longer hid from behind him. He had grown a little bolder over the past few days whether it was because Kirk felt safer than before or whether he longed to leave, Hernan wouldn’t say but he hopped it wasn’t the latter.

“This should be good. I… could you perhaps look away for a moment?” Kirk turned towards Bekka. A flush of color reddened her cheeks when she realized what Kirk was insinuating. Hernan refrained from laughing. Instead he took the discarded clothes Kirk removed from himself.

“I never thanked you for the clothes.”

“They were Bekka’s,” Hernan confessed.

“You’re quite welcome,” Bekka added with her back still turned and eyes shut.

It was Kirk’s turn to avert his gaze shyly. “Well, thank you.”

“They did fit you nicely.”

“Hernan,” Bekka warned.

“Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Kirk.”

“It was… nice to meet you, Hernan, and you as well, Bekka.” a soft smile curled the edge of Kirk’s lips but Hernan knew he was ready to go.

He stood with his head raised towards the moon which shined above them. The light illuminated Kirk’s pale skin, and bathed him in a glow that made Hernan forget about the cold.

_‘Goodbye, friend.’_

Kirk transformed.

He gave a departing screech, letting Bekka know it was okay to turn around. She did. Her eyes widened in surprise at the white bat which flew before them. She had seen him before in the palm of Hernan’s hands, but to know who that bat was… a warm smile spread over her features.

“Take care, Kirk.” she waved.

The two of them stood side by side, watching Kirk fly through the air. Bekka lost sight him first.

“I guess that’s it.” she patted Hernan on the shoulder. “I’ll meet you back inside.”

She knew Hernan perhaps needed time to himself. He was never good at goodbyes. She would sometimes tease him about it, but now was not the time.

Hernan was thankful. He wished her well with a warm smile of his own. When he turned his attention back to the sky, the bat was gone.

“Kirk…?”

Bekka’s steps faltered as she turned back too. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t see him.”

“Well he could be long gone by—”

“Kirk!” Hernan shot through the sky.

He couldn’t think, he could only move, but move – move faster, quicker. He had to. He needed to.

Kirk fell through the sky, and Hernan feared he wouldn’t catch him in time.

He saw red eyes looked up at him.

 _‘Look at me.’_ Hernan wanted to say. _‘Don’t look at the ground; look at me.’_

Even as the ground came closer, so did Hernan. He Did not know how fast he had propelled himself down, but as long as he could reach him, it didn’t matter.

_‘Just a little more…’_

Those red eyes looked up at him helplessly, and as the ground got closer, fear flashed before them.

Hernan reached out his hand.

_‘I won’t let you fall.’_

Kirk reached for him.

_‘Hernan.’_

They struck the ground.

“Hernan!” Bekka wanted to rush towards them, but they were too far away. Even so, she had heard the collision, felt the ground beneath her feet tremble. She knew it was them, but whether they were alive… she held her breath.

“Hernan!” his hearing buzzed, rang in his ears, but he could vaguely distinguish his name.

_‘Bekka…’_

“H-Hernan…” a voice much softer whispered in his ear.

A gentle hand rested upon his cheek, and his eyes opened.

“Kirk.” Hernan made to sit up, but pain shot up his back.

“Slow. It’s okay.” Hernan knew those words, and to hear them from Kirk, he couldn’t help the smile that formed across his lips.

“We’re okay.”

“I can’t believe you.” Kirk laughed in disbelief, but the mirth was short lived by a sharp inhale.

Hernan, be damned, he sat up from beneath Kirk to get a proper look at him. It was then he realized the fingers that had brushed along his face were red.

He needed to get Kirk back.

Slowly, Hernan eased himself to his feet even as Kirk pleaded with him not to.

“You’re hurt. Please, don’t strain yourself.”

“It is you, who I am most concerned about.” Hernan was in such a hurry to fly after Kirk, he had forgotten to remove his shirt and jacket, resulting in the backs of them being torn. He nonetheless, slipped what was left of the material off his shoulders, and held it to Kirk’s bleeding side.

“Try to keep pressure there,” Hernan instructed.

“Hernan… you’re hurt. You can’t—”

“I will,” Hernan interjected. By sheer will, he would. Even as every part of him ached, he moved to carry Kirk in his arms, and take to the skies once more – if not slower than he had before.

He felt the core of his being tremble, or perhaps it was Kirk who shook in his arms, but he couldn’t think of that now. He had to get Kirk inside. He had to take care of the bleeding before he lost too much. He already almost lost Kirk that night, and he might just lose him again.

Bekka felt the air leave her when she saw Hernan from the tree tops. He was alive, but the way Hernan flew was worrying. She knew he was not alright. Nonetheless, she ran back into the woods and towards the church. It was where Hernan was most likely headed to.

She was right. Even hurt, Hernan made it to the edge of the forest in a matter of minutes. His knees nearly broke under the added weight upon landing, but he was quick to right himself as Kirk’s hold on him tightened.

“I will not let you fall,” Hernan promised aloud.

Kirk said nothing.

It was a miracle when they got inside Hernan’s small room without being seen or falling once, but Hernan did it. He carefully set Kirk down on the mat, and at last his knees gave in.

“Hernan.”

“I’m fine,” he tried to assure Kirk. “Now let me see you.”

He carefully pried Kirk’s hand away from his side where he knew the cut was. It was a jagged laceration, one Hernan knew was made from a short, blunt weapon by the looks of it.

The stitching Kirk had done the first night seemed to have split on one end meaning Hernan would have to redo them, but what was most concerning was how it hadn’t looked better from the first night. It was worse.

“Did you use the marigolds on this?”

Kirk shook his head. “They weren’t for me.”

Hernan tsked. “We had some to spare. You should have used them.”

Kirk remained silent, but allowed Hernan to tend to him. Even when Hernan had to do the inevitable restitching of the wound, Kirk held onto him, and muffled his screams with Hernan’s tattered jacket stuffed in his mouth.

Even so, Hernan knew Kirk was in pain, and though he had done it before, he couldn’t help the shaking of his hand. It took all his will to finish before he placed the leftover marigolds on the wound, and wrapped it securely.

“Hernan.” Kirk looked at him afraid. He was still shaken, and Hernan was too.

He bundled the both of them up in a spare blanket, and Kirk rested against him. He buried his nose in the crook of Hernan’s neck and at last, his breathing slowed. His heartbeat calmed. He was okay.

They were okay.

When Bekka walked in to see the two, she knew as well. She brought them an extra blanket and whispered to Hernan, “Stay here today. I’ll deal with the priest.”

“Thank you.”

Bekka nodded, and left the two of them together.

 

* * *

 

When Hernan awoke, pain radiated through his body. For the first time, in the longest time, he was sore. His muscles felt weighed down by lead, and everything stiff. He felt like the wooden doll Waller wished he were.

What grounded him the most was the weight he felt upon his chest. Kirk had remained curled in his hold. Although his breathing was slow and his heart calm, Hernan knew he was awake.

Neither said anything.

Whether it was because they both thought they fooled the other that they were asleep, or because they were trying to remember that they were alive, Hernan couldn’t say. However, his façade had broken when he moved to hold Kirk closer to him. The movement pained him, but he needed the solid affirmation that it was indeed him.

“You think it’s nightfall?” Kirk softly spoke up.

Hernan focused his hearing from beyond them. “I believe so.”

Another long pause fell between them, where neither of them made to move, but alas, it was Kirk who eventually was the first to do so.

He moved slowly, holding his side where the stitches were.

Hernan shortly followed Kirk’s lead.

“How are you feeling?” Hernan asked.

“Sore… how are you?”

“Sore,” Hernan admitted with a short-lived laugh. Even his ribs were sore.

“We should apply more compresses.” Hernan suggested, and Kirk allowed it.

He allowed Hernan to care for him. Hernan’s touch was gentle as he took the utmost care with him. He handled Kirk as if any moment he would break into a thousand pieces, but Kirk remained compliant all the same.

“I want to check on the patients,” Kirk voiced once Hernan was done.

Hernan huffed. “Even when you yourself are hurt, you think of them?”

“Please.”

Hernan nodded. After who knew how many days they were asleep for, it would be wise to check on them. Kirk found the cloak and pair of breeches lent to him earlier, neatly folded in the corner. Bekka must have dropped them off for him.

He gratefully took them. Hernan in turn slipped over his last shirt. Hopefully he didn’t tear this one.

With careful footing, the two made their way to the chapel where Kirk’s patients laid. They were silent, but alive and breathing.

Kirk knelt down to check the wounds. “They’re much better. The infection is gone. As long as they don’t try anything arduous, they should fully recover.”

“That is good news.” Hernan caught the smile that crossed Kirk’s features. He was happy. “Thank you, you did well.”

“It was nothing at all.”

“Not at all,” Hernan assured. “To them, you saved their lives.”

Kirk made to speak, but Hernan had silenced him with a motion of his hand. “Someone’s coming.”

Kirk moved behind Hernan. He raised the hood of his cloak once more to hide his features as the footsteps grew closer.

“Is someone there?” a shadow loomed over the entrance of the chapel. Hernan didn’t make a move to hide, so Kirk didn’t either.

“Good evening, Father,” Hernan said to the newly illuminated figure.

“Lieutenant, what are you doing here in the middle of the night?” the man moved closer with his candle raised. When he was only a few feet from Hernan, he could see they were not alone.

“Who is this?” he questioned before Hernan could answer the first one.

“He is a healer. I brought him here to care for the wounded, and his treatment has proved to be successful.”

“I see… That is good to hear,” the priest replied, although his tone would suggest otherwise. “I have to ask though, why haven’t we seen him before?”

“His travels were delayed,” Hernan said evenly. The priest gave a long look towards the cloaked figure behind Hernan, but Kirk didn’t make a move to reveal himself, and Hernan remained rooted in front of him. It was evident enough to Kirk that Hernan didn’t trust the priest.

“Very well then. As grateful as I am to you and your men, I’m afraid I do not have the space to house him.”

“That is very kind of you, Father, but I shall take care of him,” Hernan promised.

“Well that solves it then. Please, get some rest, Lieutenant. I hope to receive the pleasure of meeting your friend in the daylight.”

“I’m afraid my friend and I will be departing for the capital at dawn. Upon my absence, I will be leaving my Major in command.”

“You’re leaving so soon? What if—”

“I have complete trust in my men, Father, and my Major handles them better than I do at times,” Hernan assured. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have some last-minute things to prepare for our departure.”

Hernan took hold of Kirk’s hand before slipping past the priest. Kirk turned his face away from the light, and was careful to cover himself with the cloak as they moved swiftly out of the chapel. Only when they returned to Hernan’s room did Kirk feel safe to speak.

“Are we truly leaving tonight?”

“Yes, I’ve been assigned a mission from the Queen – that I was not lying about.” Hernan moved to pack what little things he had. “I should think you would prefer coming with me, least the priest become more suspicious of your presence.”

Kirk nodded in agreement. “Will we be flying? What about your back?”

“I will be fine,” Hernan assured. “We should leave by horseback, and then I’ll fly the rest of the way.”

“And then?”

“Then I shall take you to my current residence. You should be safe there – away from prying eyes.”

Kirk nodded once more, but added nothing further. Hernan was surprised. He knew Kirk was relatively quiet, but he expected Kirk to question him further. Was he not interested where Hernan lived or how the new living arrangements might be? Or did Kirk trust him enough that he didn’t feel the need to ask?

Looking over, Kirk’s gaze was down towards his hands in his lap. He sat quietly in the corner of the mat, and Hernan let him be. He didn’t feel like prying at the moment. It could be nothing.

When dusk fell upon the horizon, Hernan had a horse saddled to go.

“Will you only be taking one?” Bekka held the reins momentarily.

“I haven’t asked if Kirk can ride, but that is a mystery for another day,” Hernan said before looking over at where Kirk stood near the edge of the woods. The hood of his cloak was drawn up to hide his features.

“Are you certain he can travel by day?” Bekka lowered her voice just barely over a whisper. “What about the sun?”

“He’s not a vampire,” Hernan replied, although some part of him worried about the sun as well. Even if Kirk didn’t burn up in smoke, once the rays hit him, with such pale skin, he most likely couldn’t stand the sun for long.

“I’ll keep him covered,” Hernan promised. “Meanwhile, I trust you to keep guard of the border. I doubt there should be another attack soon, but we cannot be certain. I will send word for you when to fall back.”

“Lieutenant.” Bekka saluted with a smirk tugging the corner of her lips.

“Major.”

Bekka handed Hernan the reins before heading back inside the church. She no longer stood by to see him off. She trusted Hernan would be fine, and he was, even if he enjoyed the sentimentality of watching him go.

Nonetheless, he wasn’t a child. He looked over at where he last saw Kirk to tell him it was time to go when he saw Kirk crouched down at eye level with a small child.

She extended out her cupped hands to reveal a small cluster of purple flowers.

“For you.” Hernan could hear her say. When Kirk didn’t reach to take it, she boldly reached for Kirk’s hand, and placed the flowers in his palm.

Kirk was speechless.

She smiled. “Thank you.”

She let go of his hand and ran past Hernan. When Hernan could fully see the bounce of her curls, and the light of her eyes, he realized who she was.

“A token of affection? I’m a little envious.” Hernan teased when he reached Kirk.

Kirk finally rose with his palm still open. Hernan wondered whether Kirk was too surprised to close his palm, as if looking at it for a little longer would solidify its existence, or whether Kirk felt so underserving of something so sweet.

“There is no need for such a gesture.” Kirk finally spoke up. His palm closed and he tucked his hands into his pockets.

“I wouldn’t say that. You saved her life that night, as well as had my back. Perhaps I should have given you flowers too.”

Hernan expected a smart quip, but Kirk averted his gaze from him.

_‘Too much?’_

Hernan didn’t pry but patted the saddle of the horse. “It’s time to go.”

The ride was uneventful as Kirk rode behind Hernan with his head rested upon the back of his shoulder and his legs draped over the side. Hernan would sometimes bring the horse to a slow gait to see if Kirk had fallen asleep. It was around this time that the bat slept, but Kirk was awake. He just chose not to say anything.

By the time they were in the air it was evening, and when they reached Hernan’s home, it was well into the night.

The manor was large. It was tucked up high into the mountains that Kirk had to wonder how many visitors Hernan got. The fewer the better.

“Due to my victories in war, the Queen gave me this home. It’s away from prying eyes, and far from civilization. You should be safe here.”

Kirk was led inside. The rooms were large and spacious with dark wood paneling, and hard wood floors. There were paintings of people he didn’t know, ornate furniture with intricate carvings, and even fur rugs beneath his bare feet.

“Is all of this yours?” Kirk removed his hood as he looked at the many different things.

“No,” Hernan replied. “Most things came with the place.”

“What happened to the previous owner?”

“I know better than to ask,” Hernan replied, knowing the previous owner was most likely sentenced an egregious crime against the crown. Now Hernan lived in their home.

Kirk didn’t comment further on the matter.

“You must have help with cleaning.” Kirk ran his finger lightly over the prelaid silver in the grand dining area.

“She comes every other week.”

“Just one?”

“Just one. The Queen had insisted I have more and live-in help, but I made my case that the less who know about me, the better.”

Kirk nodded. “So I should be alone while you’re gone?”

Hernan paused, before a smile crept upon his features. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in time to feed you.”

“How kind of you,” Kirk quipped, but Hernan’s smile only grew.

Whatever quiet spell had fallen over Kirk seemed to have been broken for now. However, even after his smart reply, his red gaze averted from Hernan and the curl of his lips were drawn thinly.

He pulled Kirk close to him for a moment. It was instinctual, Hernan thought; he couldn’t help it. Kirk looked lonely, and he wasn’t one to stay still.

“I’ll be back by morning. I promise.”

Kirk was stiff in his arms at first, but at Hernan’s words, he allowed Hernan to hold him.

 _‘Come back soon’_ or ‘ _I’ll be waiting’_ , were things Hernan imagined Kirk could say to him, but perhaps Kirk wasn’t as sentimental.

He let him go, and with a departing smile, he made to leave. His wings sprouted from his back and he lifted from the ground.

Hernan looked back down at the manor one more time, only to see Kirk standing in the doorframe looking up at him.

Hernan smiled. Perhaps he was a little sentimental after all.


	7. Chapter 7

“Have you word from Lord Moxon?”

“No, Mam.”

The woman tutted followed by the snapping sound of cloth. “Tis a shame for the young master to go missing at a time like this, with his father so ill.”

“You think he ran away?”

“I don’t know what was in that boy’s head, and quite frankly, it’s not my business either.”

“But still… you can’t help but wonder if he ran away with that—”

“We do not speak of _that_ ,” the woman interjected with a tone of finality. That was the end of the conversation.

Hernan moved on.

The Queen wished to know what lurked within the walls of Moxon. Her scouts could only gather what they could from the surrounding towns in disguise, but only Hernan could breach their walls. He clung to the stone by the claws of his feet and hands, and scaled to the top of the windows listening.

He caught the servants gossiping about their master, Lord Moxon. Lord Moxon was a respectable noble of Gotham. He was most known for his wealth, and has been said to even keep the King’s pockets lined with gold should he need a little favor.

Recently, Moxon has spent a great deal of his wealth on this war, in hopes that he would be gifted great prosperous lands from Kandor in return, only to return from the war gravely wounded himself. It was Hernan who struck the deadly blow. He remembered.

He had sliced him from the back of his legs, and brought the Lord to his knees. The man had surrendered, and that was the last time Hernan had seen him.

“Attention!”

Hernan peered down at the courtyard in which the iron gates slowly opened for a galloping horse that did not slow. The rider reared the beast back with a rough tug of the reins, before dismounting immediately.

“I have news from the front for Lord Moxon.”

“The Lord is currently indisposed at this hour of the night. Please return in the morning if you still wish to speak with him.”

“Please, sir, I would not have made such haste if it were not important.”

“Is it news of his son?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve found him?”

“No, sir.”

“Then there is nothing of importance that can’t wait till morning.”

“Please, least the King hear my words before his Lord.”

Both Hernan and the guard paused in alarm. Hernan dared to press a little closer of which he could make the thin outline of guard’s dawn lips. He gave a small nod, and ushered the man quickly inside. Hernan moved as well.

He didn’t want to lose them, but at the same time, he did not know where they were going to go. He was limited in his movements. He could not go inside. He could scale walls of large buildings, and fly above the roof, but going inside was out of question. He was not stealthy enough to do so.

Nonetheless, he kept his ears open to listen to the sound of their muffled footsteps moving across carpeted floors to stone. They were descending?

Hernan glanced down. It would be dangerous to lower himself further least a groundsman catch him off guard. Even so, their footsteps were beginning to fade, and Hernan had to chance it. He leaped down from the high story, onto the grass beneath him.

He could hear them again, even if only faintly so.

“What is the meaning of this?” Hernan could hear a voice he did not know speak under a hushed tone.

“Lord Chill? Evening, sir, I assume you are acting in place for Lord Moxon.”

“Yes, what is it?”

“I have news of the young master’s… pet.”

There was a pregnant pause before Hernan heard an angry crash.

“Damn that rotten child! It’s his own damn fault for harboring a demon. No good comes from dealing with the devil’s own.”

“There have been sightings of him in Kandor.”

“So he lives? I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s ripped the young man’s throat out.”

“Sir, please, let us talk further in your quarters, least someone hear us.”

“Yes, please, come in.”

Hernan heard the sound of the door close, but nothing beyond it.

That would have to do.

It would only be a few hours before dawn broke, and so Hernan had to enact the second part of his mission quickly. With wings outstretched, he fled the estate unseen to make haste to the city’s grain stores.

 _‘If it is indeed, Lord Moxon who stole from us, then it is only right to return the favor,’_ Waller had said with her gaze towards the flames of the fireplace. Hernan could see a whole world burning in the reflection of those dark eyes.

_‘As you wish, your Highness.’_

With his speed, and strength, the deed was done. He dropped off the stores at the designated towns Bekka and him had visited prior. That should do, Hernan thought. They should be well again soon. All that was left was to fix the buildings and small houses, and the people should be well again.

All the while, he couldn’t help but think of what he had overheard that night at the Moxon’s. A demon, a pet of sorts had escaped around the time of the young Moxon’s disappearance. Who was this demon, and what concern was it to the Moxons?

Apparently, its value was great if they feared the knowledge of it escaping to their king. Hernan wondered whether he should even pass on such knowledge to his queen.

He landed heavily in front of his place, winded from using so much of his strength in such a short amount of time. To his surprise, as Hernan unsteadily lurched forward to open the door, the door was opened by someone else, and steady hands were there to catch him.

“Hernan!”

“I’m fine,” Hernan assured, even as Kirk moved to drape one arm across his shoulder, and half carry him inside.

“Are you hurt?” Kirk asked once Hernan was seated at the sitting room.

“No.” Hernan shook his head. “Just winded.”

“I see,” Kirk replied. He straightened himself up as Hernan got a better look at him.

“Are those mine?”

Kirk looked down at the linen shirt, and simple pants he had found while Hernan was gone. “Yes, I shouldn’t have taken them without asking but—”

“They look good on you,” Hernan interjected before Kirk could apologize. “A little big, but good.”

Kirk had rolled up the sleeves past his elbows, and the pants purposefully cut off a little past the knee, but for Kirk it went almost to his ankles. Hernan refrained from chuckling, but a small smile did curl the corners of his lips.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to show you the place, but I see you found yourself at home.”

Kirk remained silent. His red gaze was cast demurely towards the burning fire – a fire Hernan had not started himself. Kirk really had settled in. Perhaps it was impertinent, but Hernan wasn’t mad.

“Are you hungry?” Hernan decided to change the subject nonetheless.

Kirk didn’t look at him – not at first. His gaze remained upon the fireplace, unseeing for a few moments before he slowly moved to kneel before Hernan’s feet. The way Kirk’s head was bent shyly, and his legs tucked beneath him, he looked rather obedient like a pet.

Hernan silently offered his wrist. Kirk looked up at him at last. He sought further assurance that he could take from Hernan, and Hernan nodded in confirmation.

Cold fingers wrapped around his wrist. The touch was much gentler than the first. The gentleness did not come from uncertainty, but rather from a place Hernan wasn’t quite sure. He could only say something had shifted in Kirk. Ever since that fall, Kirk had not been the same around him.

Was he still fearful? But fearful of what? He could not fall from here. He was safe here.

Hernan hissed at the sudden pinch, but the pain never lasted for long. His blood flowed, and Kirk drank quietly. By the way his head was angled, Hernan couldn’t see Kirk’s face. He could only feel his cool lips against his skin yet the warm rush of his blood.

After a minute, Kirk released him.

“That was quick.”

Kirk looked away, hiding his face from Hernan as he licked his lips. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Hernan replied as he pressed his wrist against his thigh to help stop the bleeding. Even so, Kirk hadn’t moved from his kneeling position, and once again, Hernan’s thoughts returned to the image of a dog.

“Kirk, I don’t believe I ever asked where you come from?”

There was a pregnant pause before Kirk answered, “Gotham.”

“What part of Gotham?”

“Is there a reason for this sudden curiosity?” Kirk’s red eyes flashed at him, and though Hernan found them mesmerizing, to a stranger, they would have thought him a monster – a demon.

“I was tasked last night to spy upon Lord Moxon. Perhaps you know that name.” Hernan decided to be honest. He didn’t feel like truly interrogating Kirk. He didn’t want to push him, but at the same time, Hernan felt a need to know. Even if his feelings of Kirk wouldn’t change depending on the answer, he would at least felt like he would have a better sense of where Kirk was coming from.

Kirk visibly stiffened. He averted his gaze from Hernan – those red eyes losing their fire. His hands bunched in the excess material of his pants, and the sound of his pounding heart echoed in Hernan’s ears. It was fast.

“Kirk.” Hernan went to reach for him.

“Don’t.” Kirk growled between clenched teeth.

Though his hand was only a few inches from Kirk’s shoulder, Hernan retracted his hand.

 “What do you want from me, Hernan? What do you seek for caring for me?”

“Must I want something to care for you?”

“Yes,” Kirk snapped. His red eyes flared once more as they stared him down. “You must want something. Everyone wants something.”

“I’m afraid I’m not everyone.” although his tone may have been nonchalant, or perhaps arrogant, Hernan was not lying to Kirk nor was he trying to be cheeky. He was merely telling the truth. He wasn’t like everyone. He never would be.

“However, you are right,” Hernan amended. “Everyone wants something. It’s why we bother to breathe. In terms of what I want regarding you, I simply wish to get to know you.”

“Why?”

“Perhaps companionship?” Hernan sighed as he hunched over wearily. “I cannot name specifically what I want from you. I simply saw you that night, and was compelled to save you. When you intervened days later to save my life, well, I thought this couldn’t be a bad man, and so I cared for you. Does that answer suffice?”

Kirk looked away once more, although his dark brows remained furrowed and his lips drawn thinly. “You want to know me? Then know I don’t like being toyed with, nor am I a good man.”

“You acted in my defense, and saved a young girl. How are you not good?”

“Enough!” Kirk rose from Hernan’s feet. He fully bared his fangs with a snarl that could only be that of a feral animal, as his claws that could slice through dragon scales emerged. “This is why you should have left me. I am not whatever you have procured – some false innocent picture you’ve made of me. This is who I am.”

“Kirk…”

“No, you’re just like him! You want to tame me – to control me. You can’t! You can’t chain this demon inside me. No one can. Not you – not Moxon.”

“Kirk!”

Hernan went to reach from him, only for pain to suddenly rush up his arm. Unlike being bitten, the pain didn’t subside after a moment or two. It stung, burned as Hernan cradled the bleeding hand close to him reflexively.

“Kirk...” He looked up at him. Those red eyes were no longer vexing, but rather they were wide in shock. Kirk shook his head in disbelief. He couldn’t have done that. He couldn’t have hurt Hernan. But he did.

“Kirk.” Hernan took a step towards him, wanting to reassure him that it was okay, but Kirk only stepped back. He backed away slowly from Hernan. He couldn’t have hurt Hernan. He couldn’t…

Kirk ran.

“Kirk!” Hernan cursed under his breath. He was too winded to chase after him, but he could hear him. He could hear him stumble through the halls before a door slammed shut. He could hear Kirk collapse against the door before his feet gave way, and he slid to his knees.

Hernan wanted to say something, but the words would not come. Instead, when he came to the door Kirk hid behind, he simply sank to his own knees. He let his back rest against the door, and his bleeding arm, already healing itself, fall to his lap.

A small cry could be heard from the other side of the door. It was the only barrier that stood between them, and though Hernan wanted to stand, wanted to break it down, he was reminded of Kirk’s words. He would be like Moxon if he broke down the door. He would be controlling, manipulative if he tried to force himself in Kirk’s space.

So although Hernan ached at the sound of Kirk in pain, he swallowed down the guilt and tried to tell himself this was for the best. He did not know who Moxon was to Kirk nor what Moxon had done to Kirk, but by god, did he not want to become Moxon in Kirk’s eyes.

But what did Moxon do to Kirk? What kind of relationship did they have? Hernan had remembered the conversation of the maids. The young lord had harbored a demon. The fact angered Lord Chill, where he accused the demon of being the young Lord’s demise. Did Kirk kill him, or was there something more to the relationship? Were the maids correct in that the young Moxon had ran away with Kirk?

Whether Kirk had killed him, or had run away with the young Moxon, whatever happened to the heir did not bode well. Hernan remembered the cold night he had found Kirk. He was on the brink of death with no signs of another person nearby. Hernan had remembered the lacerations across Kirk’s sides. He had sewn shut the jagged knife wound, and continued to help nurse Kirk back to full health.

He could not say the same for the young Moxon. He was still missing from causes unknown.

Hernan swallowed. Another cry could be heard, and Hernan held his breath. Was it a grieving heart that trembled upon the other side of the door? Or was Kirk just as eager to find the young lord as everyone in Gotham was – so eager, he would risk his life to take flight when he was not ready?

Hernan balled his newly healed hand into a fist. It was a little sore, but it no longer hurt, it no longer bled. He was fine, and hopefully Kirk would be too.

Hours had passed, and Kirk’s cries had long died out. All that was left was silence, and a solid door standing between them. Hernan had promised himself he wouldn’t go in. He wouldn’t force himself into Kirk’s space. Rather he would meet him half way. He had waited outside the door for some time, just waiting for a sign – any sign.

* * *

 

The door unlocked.

Hernan looked up at the small opening, and when he saw nothing, he simply backed away. However, before he could stand, Kirk was standing before him.

His face was averted away but Hernan saw the redness beneath those eyes. His cheeks and the tip of his nose were still hued pink. It was evident he had cried, even if Hernan had not heard it, but he didn’t make note of it. He didn’t say anything.

He stayed rooted to the ground.

After what seemed like moments, Kirk was the first to move, albeit it was a tremor of his pale hands. They quaked before coming to grab his sides, but by then his whole body shook.

It was then Hernan finally moved. On his knees, Hernan reached a steady hand to rest upon Kirk’s arm. One touch, and Kirk broke before him. His legs gave way, but Hernan was there to catch him. He promised Kirk would not fall.

As his hands had reached for Kirk, Kirk’s own hands had caught themselves upon Hernan’s arms before coming to wrap around him. They held each other close. Hernan felt dampness upon his shoulder as Kirk buried the side of his face against it, but Hernan didn’t say anything. He simply held him after the hours he had restrained himself from doing so.

“H-Hernan…” Kirk choked on his sob. “I-I’ve… what I’ve done… I’m beyond redemption. I cannot undo such terrible things.”

Hernan had remained silent for a moment. While he waited for Kirk to come out, he had thought about what he would do if Kirk had confessed to killing Moxon. Handing Kirk over to the Moxons for what he had done to the heir didn’t sound like justice. Hernan wouldn’t know what the Moxons would do to Kirk. Not only that, but Kirk himself was dangerous. He couldn’t hand Kirk over to the enemy he was currently fighting against.

On the other hand, he couldn’t hand Kirk over to Waller either. Although he addressed Waller as his queen, he didn’t trust her entirely. He didn’t trust that she would merely lock Kirk away.

No, the only conclusion Hernan could think of was to keep Kirk close to him. If Kirk proved to be the demon the Moxons accused him of, then Hernan would put him down. But even as his fingers moved to the base of Kirk’s neck… his fingers faltered at the pulsing of the vein — the beating of his heart.

Those who are truly guilty, do not crumble to the floor and cry. Those who are truly guilty, do not try to help others if it did not benefit them. If Kirk were truly a monster, he had several chances to prove it, but all Hernan could see was someone who was lost. He saw someone who was sorry, afraid, and very alone.

“I won’t ask what you’ve done, Kirk, but I will say what some have done in your situation. Some continue down their destructive paths. They think, I was born damned, trying to do good is pointless. Then there are those who do nothing, because what good could they ever do to make up for what they’ve done.

“Lastly, there are those who just do what they believe is good. Not because they seek redemption or even a promised heaven, but simply because it is the right thing to do.

“I won’t ask you what you’ve done; I only ask what will you do?”

Kirk didn’t answer. He didn’t lift his head from Hernan’s shoulder, but Hernan could feel the weight of it. He felt all – or as much as Kirk would allow. Hernan knew there was more. He knew Kirk bore much more than he let on, but for now, all Hernan could do was let Kirk rest on his shoulder. He could bear this weight, and he would bear anymore Kirk gave him.

He was strong enough to do at least that.

As Kirk’s weight upon him grew heavier, Hernan shifted his hold momentarily so that he could gather Kirk’s legs and lift him. Kirk didn’t struggle. He remained still in Hernan’s hold as he was carried down the hall slowly to another room.

Hernan laid him down on the bed. Only then did Kirk let go of him, and at last, Hernan could see his face. His cheeks were streaked with dry tear marks, as Hernan’s warm fingers couldn’t help but rub against them softly.

Kirk closed his eyes at the feeling. He took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

His lips parted as if he were going to say something, but nothing came. Rather he turned his face away from Hernan’s touch and then his whole body.

Hernan backed away.

Kirk needed space.

Hernan did what he could. Now it was Kirk’s turn.

For the next few days, Hernan had made sure Kirk had looked after his wound. Home, Hernan had ointments to dress the wound more effectively than marigolds.

Although Hernan couldn’t help but smile at the little orange tinge the marigold had left against Kirk’s pale skin. It was a blossom of color against a pale canvas, but he refrained from commenting. Instead he’d apply the ointment and redressed the wound.

All the while, Kirk didn’t say a thing. His features were neutral, but Hernan knew he was thinking. Kirk seemed to always be thinking, and although Hernan wondered what those thoughts were, he didn’t pry. He didn’t offer an answer either, but it seemed like there was nothing to say – nothing to do. All he could do was wait.

Kirk silently removed his stitching when it was time. Kirk had a better judgement than Hernan upon the matter. By the deftness of his movements, he had more skill too. He placed the materials aside, and what was left behind was a light jagged scar. It was the only scar on Kirk’s body Hernan knew of so far.

Hernan moved to clean up, when his hand nearly faltered.

“I’d like to try,” Kirk said.

After days of saying nothing, Kirk finally spoke of leaving. Is that what he wanted?

“Very well, shall we try it outside?”

Kirk nodded, before helping Hernan clean up the mess.

The two of them left the manor to stand outside where the sun was starting to fade behind the trees.

Kirk had slowly undressed like he did the first time they tried. Except this time, their parting wasn’t long. Hernan didn’t bid farewell, nor had Kirk. Rather Kirk had set the borrowed clothes to the side, and Hernan had removed his shirt as well for his wings to unfurl from his back.

Hernan was first to take to the sky. He looked down patiently for Kirk to join him as red eyes looked up at him. The emotion behind them was something Hernan could not define, but he didn’t have very long to ponder before Kirk had shifted into his bat form.

The white bat took to the skies beside him. His wings flapped and his white fur ruffled in the wind. Hernan smiled at the sight. He dove through the sky, looped through the clouds, and all the while Kirk wasn’t too far behind.

The white bat streaked through the sky with a screech that sounded cuter to Hernan than it probably should have. But one thing was clear, Kirk could safely transform again. He was fully healed. There was no reason for him to linger around Hernan any longer.

He was free.

 _‘Goodbye, friend,’_ Hernan thought at last. He had said to himself he wouldn’t let Kirk go. He told himself that it was safer for Kirk to be with him for both Kirk’s sake and his sense of mind. However, Hernan couldn’t say what was best for Kirk. Only Kirk could decide what was best for himself at this point of his life. If leaving Hernan to find the young Lord Moxon was the best for him, then so be it.

Hernan held back near the tree line of the forest as Kirk flew past him. He screeched once more as if to say farewell, and Hernan let him go.

He turned back towards the direction of his home. That was the end, or so he thought.

Another shriek resounded behind him, before white wings flew past him.

_‘Kirk…?’_

As if he could hear him, Kirk swooped back towards Hernan. Where Hernan flew, Kirk was not far behind. When Hernan flew towards his home once more, Kirk was right behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

Kirk hadn’t left his side. Despite having said a couple of months ago that he would leave as soon as he was healed, Kirk hadn’t. He had remained by Hernan’s side, and Hernan was more than okay with it.

He had opened another section of his home just for Kirk. Another room, another bed, another seat at the table no longer vacant; Kirk was there.

“Are you hungry?” Hernan had asked once he sat down for breakfast. He had boiled himself 3 dozen eggs with several rolls of bread.

“No, I’m fine thank you,” Kirk replied, although his eyes remained on Hernan’s plate.

“Are you sure?” Hernan questioned. “You haven’t stopped staring at my food.”

“I’m quite sure. I cannot consume solid food, unfortunately, and I beg your pardon for staring. It’s just that… I believe this is the first time I’ve seen you eat. Do you not eat regularly?”

“No. It’s the same as sleep. I can go on for a long time without eating nor sleeping, but when I do, I can eat quite a lot and sleep for a very long time. This is actually quite small for me.”

“I see,” Kirk said in a manner that suggested he didn’t see at all, but he accepted it as fact nonetheless.

“How are you feeling?” Hernan asked as he began to crack open the first of many eggs.

“I’m well, thank you. I can transform and fly without pain.”

“That is good to hear. If you should need anything more, don’t hesitate to take it. I will be departing for another mission shortly. I cannot say how long I will be gone. Hopefully only a few weeks.”

“Another task from your queen?”

“Yes, I’ve taken care for her borders surrounding Gotham for the time being. Now I must take care of the other neighboring nations.”

“I should go with you then.”

Hernan nearly swallowed his egg whole. “You? You wish to go?”

“I am to have your back, am I not?”

Hernan nearly laughed at the memory of him asking Kirk to play his bodyguard. It was a foolish way for him to keep Kirk nearby him, but now with Kirk volunteering to, Hernan wasn’t so sure.

“Are you sure? This mission won’t be easy. Even for me.”

“I’m doing what I think is right, and what feels right is going with you. I’m not staying here in wait,” Kirk replied with a determined look that Hernan could not argue with.

“Very well. We leave at dusk,” Hernan said before returning to his breakfast. All the while, Kirk continued to watch in slight wonder as Hernan had consumed everything, and then made some more and ate that too.

When dusk settled, Hernan had set off with few provisions for them both as Kirk had settled in one of Hernan’s pockets in his bat form. He could fly, but Hernan had reasoned this would be faster. Kirk relented.

In a matter of a minutes, they landed in the middle of another forest. Kirk wrapped a dark cloak around his shoulders like he did last time he was out with Hernan. He pulled the hood up to hide his features while Hernan tugged a shirt on and his dark coat.

“We’re here for espionage.”

“Spying?”

Hernan nodded. “Currently the Queen is trying to negotiate peace, but the neighboring nations still have things over us, so we’re here to even the odds.”

“By doing what exactly?”

“Thanagar currently holds many of our soldiers captured during battle. I intend to free them, but first, we must know where they are being held. Thus, espionage.”

“Why would they keep them as prisoners?”

“That’s another question I intend to find out.”

Kirk nodded. “Very well, then what’s the plan?”

 

* * *

 

Hernan had sent Kirk off on his own while he made his way further through the brush. Kirk would be fine, Hernan tried to tell himself. He shouldn’t be worried. He shouldn’t feel guilty, but at the same time, he had given Kirk the hardest part.

“Hernan.”

“Bekka.” Hernan approached the small camp. “Did you get everything?”

“I’ve gathered 380 men. It was the most I could spare from the other fronts without being noticed.”

“Half a battalion will have to do.”

“What did you find?”

“Nothing yet,” Hernan replied much to Bekka’s confusion.

“Were you not supposed to scout before us?”

“I am – or rather Kirk is.”

Bekka’s step faltered. “He’s here? Are you certain that’s wise? I thought he was leaving as soon as he was healed.”

“He didn’t.” Hernan looked back at Bekka. “And I trust him.”

Bekka didn’t hide her worry for it was evident by the furrow of her brows, but she didn’t move to argue with him. She had learned in the past that Hernan was more often than not right. If he trusted Kirk, then she had no choice but to trust him too.

The two of them waited for Kirk to return. The task was simple, or at least sounded simple. All Kirk had to do was find where the soldiers were being held, and what kind of security they had in place. In his bat form, he could slip in easier than Hernan could. He could slip into rooms undetected, and crawl through small spaces.

Hernan tried not to think about the white of his fur, and how Kirk might have stood out against dark wood walls. He tried not to think about whether Kirk knew how cautious he had to be, or whether he would have no warning when a shot fired through his wings from enemy soldiers who were just having a little target practice.

“Were you this nervous when you sent me on my first mission?”

Hernan looked behind him to see Bekka leaning against a tree.

He huffed. “I was terrified.”

“He’ll be fine.” Bekka tried to assure him. A gentle hand came to rest upon Hernan’s shoulder. Hernan clutched the cloak closer to him.

“I have faith he will.” a mirthful scoff escaped him. “But it doesn’t make the wait any easier.”

He wondered whether that was why Kirk didn’t want to stay back at Hernan’s manor. He didn’t want to be the one waiting for Hernan to return safe and sound.

Just as the sun began to rise, a small screech broke through Hernan’s thoughts. Kirk was back. He could see the small white wings flying back to him, and Hernan stood ready to wrap Kirk up in his cloak.

There was a soft _‘pop’_ , and Kirk was standing before him.

“Welcome back.” Hernan smiled.

Kirk didn’t answer. His gaze was averted to the ground as he rose his hood up. “I must speak with you.”

He tugged Hernan aside. Hernan followed, although it was quite unusual for Kirk to be pulling him along anywhere. Even so, Kirk’s grip around his wrist was strong, and his pace brisk. Hernan started to worry.

“Kirk, what’s wrong?”

Kirk didn’t answer him. He didn’t let Hernan go until they were alone by the edge of a clearing. With his hood up, Hernan couldn’t see his features, but he could see the tips of his pale fingers peeking past the sleeve. They twitched uneasily.

“I saw your men,” Kirk spoke finally, although his voice was only but a whisper. “They… you will need to capture the fort if you wish to free them all.”

Hernan sighed. “I see, how bad are their injuries?”

Kirk turned to look him, but the surprise didn’t last long. He averted his gaze away once more. “Some cannot walk.”

“Very well then. How many men are guarding the fort?”

“1248 men.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite certain. I counted them all.”

Hernan was Impressed. Usually he would only estimate sizes. He would never get the exact number. Nonetheless, he accepted the numbers, even when it was clear by numbers alone, the odds were against them.

“Two battalions to hold a fort and we only have half of one. This should be a fun fight.”

Kirk balked. “Half a battalion? How will you capture the fort with such few men?”

“Easy, I’m a god of war.”

“Hernan…” Kirk called out to him when Hernan began to make his way back towards the camp. “Hernan!”

“Bekka, gather the men. We have a fort to capture.”

“I… I beg your pardon?” Hernan didn’t stop to answer her. She then looked back at Kirk who gave her an equally frustrated look.

She sighed. “God of war?”

Kirk nodded.

“God my ass.” Bekka cursed much to Kirk’s surprised, but she nonetheless had gathered the men around Hernan who stood before a crudely drawn layout of the fort.

Kirk stood beside him, hood drawn as he gave the exact numbers of the men he saw protecting the parts Hernan pointed at. Hernan wrote down the numbers as he went.

“The walls are tall, so there are no chances of us marching right up. We’ll have to infiltrate from the inside. My team will strike here.” Hernan drew the positions on the map for all to see. “From there, we’ll split in two. One from the ground, the other up high. This will draw most of the men to the center, which leaves the gates from the tunnels unguarded. Even if there’s a guard there, there should be enough of you to overpower him. At that point, you will head up by the walls where the canons are and shoot down at the center of the commotion.”

“What if we hit you, Sir?”

“You won’t,” Hernan promised. However, it didn’t seem enough to quell the men’s fears.

Hernan stood to his full height, with his gaze sharp as they cut through the crowd. “I know the numbers are not in our favor, but since the very start of this war, we have always been outnumbered. We, are a nation surrounded by empires – giants, who seek to take everything because they think they can.

“They can’t. We’ve proven that. We, the small nation of Kandor, have stood tall against giants. We’ve defeated their armies time and time again. I have defeated them time and time again – this time shall be no different.

“As your Lieutenant Major General, I have never failed you, nor will I ever fail you. I will guide you to victory. I will carve your name into history, so when people look back, at the ones who stood against giants, it will not be the giants they remember, it will be you because you did the impossible. You did what no one thought possible.

“So tell me, men, who will history remember? The giants? Or the one who cut them down?”

There was a large cry from the men. Hernan had them. He had spurred them – made them believe that despite the odds, despite rationality they would win. He made them trust him, like he had made Kirk trust that he would never let him fall again.

Kirk waited in the back as Hernan returned to his side. A small smirk tugged the corner of his lips.

“That was quite a speech,” Kirk complimented.

“I only told them what they needed to hear.”

“To charge into death?”

Hernan caught Kirk’s gaze. “To make history.”

“Is that why you fight?”

It was Hernan’s turn to smirk as he shook his head. “Not always. Now go get some rest before tonight. You’re in my team.”

 “Of course, I have your back.” Kirk nodded, before surveying the camp for a moment. “Am I sleeping here or in your pocket?”

 “The pocket would probably be best.”

Hernan led Kirk to one of the tents that had been set up so Kirk could change into his bat form privately. His wings clung to the side of Hernan’s hand, and without warning, his fangs dug into the skin.

Hernan hissed, but didn’t move to stop him.

“A little warning would be nice,” Hernan said, but Kirk only squeaked in return and continued to drink. He had earned it from the entire night of scouting, but Hernan had also earned a long-awaited chin rub as he came to tickle the underside of Kirk’s jaw earning a small purr.

Kirk let go with an angry squeak.

“Lo siento.” the bat glared. “I couldn’t help myself. You were too adorable.”

Kirk seemed to grumble before crawling into Hernan’s pocket. Hernan smiled, and patted it gently. “Rest well.”

When evening came, Hernan had patted his pocket to rouse Kirk awake. The bat hissed but crawled out of Hernan’s pocket nonetheless.

“Evening, Kirk.”

“Evening.” Kirk took the cloak Hernan had extended towards him. “Judging by our location, it seems we’re getting straight to it.”

“Yes, as you’ve said, we’re getting straight to it.”

“Lovely.”

Hernan hummed, adrenaline already running through his bones as he knelt down and cupped his hands. “After you.”

“Thank you.” Kirk, with the help of Hernan, was launched into the air. He landed on the wall, catching the men stationed off guard. With claws extended, and fangs bared, Kirk knocked one man off the wall, and tore at another’s throat.

Hernan was not far behind. With one leg transformed, he made the jump easily.

“Behind you.” Kirk ducked as Hernan made a quick slice through the man’s throat behind him.

“I thought I was supposed to have your back,” Kirk grumbled, but by the small smirk, Hernan could tell he was enjoying himself.

“Are you sure you don’t want a sword?” Hernan picked one up from a fallen foe. “Not even just a small dirk?”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t have use for it.” Kirk continued down the walkway of the wall.

“If you don’t know how to wield one, just say so.”

“Fine, I don’t know how to wield one.” Kirk was surprisingly strong for his frame as he tossed an opponent to collide with another. “But I also don’t need one.”

“Alright, I admit, I only wanted an excuse to teach you.”

Kirk stilled for a moment as if contemplating how that lesson would actually go, or if Hernan was actually serious, but before he could reply, Hernan vaulted off the side of the wall towards the center of the fort. Kirk was quick to move too.

They had caused a commotion. Rifles were being loaded, and fired, but none could penetrate Hernan’s dragon scales. He sliced through the firing line, and Kirk worked from above to gain control of the canons.

Kirk’s movements were swift and agile as he moved between the men. His claws sliced through skin and bone, and Hernan would take a moment mid battle to watch him. He was prepared to leap back to help him should the need arise, but the way Kirk wiped the blood from his lips told him was more than fine.

Hernan smiled. _‘What a blood thirsty creature.’_

Hernan moved on and was soon joined by the rest of his battalion who had broken through from the underground tunnels. They flooded from the center out, separating units and sending them back towards the walls where Hernan already had a group who had seized control of the canons thanks to Kirk clearing the path.

The fort was theirs.

Hernan glanced up at the walls where his gaze met red. He smiled at the look of disbelief Kirk had that Hernan had pulled it off; they had pulled it off, but Hernan never had a doubt in his mind that they wouldn’t. Bekka warned him such confidence would be his downfall one day, but when Hernan saw Kirk return the smile, that day was not today.

“Leave him.” Hernan returned his attention to the current battlefield. With sword drawn and his men with rifles pointed, Hernan approached the decorated soldier. “Are you the Lieutenant of this battalion?”

The man hissed in pain, with spiteful eyes at every step Hernan took towards him. “Yes, I am.”

“From one Lieutenant to another, concede defeat. Order your men to surrender.”

“You mean what’s left of them?” The man laughed, but the mirth was short lived by a painful wheeze. “They were right about you… You are no man; you are monster.”

“We are all monsters to someone.” Hernan grabbed the man by his jaw, and painfully craned his neck back. “If I am your monster, then take a good look.”

“Fuck you.”

With his hold around the neck, Hernan threw the man off his knees to his back. He delivered a solid kick to the side of his head, knocking the man unconscious. He wouldn’t be looking at anything for a while.

“Take him away,” Hernan ordered. He still needed him later for questioning. For now, he needed to round up his men, count the dead, and tend to the wounded. Not only that, but he needed to complete his initial mission, free the prisoners.

Kirk had leapt from the wall and was by his side once more.

“Take me to them.”

“You must steel yourself,” Kirk warned.

He led Hernan to one of the buildings of the compound. Inside, Hernan was immediately assaulted by the stench of rotting flesh. He knew what he was most likely going to see, but facing the truth was never easy.

He felt bile want to rise, but he swallowed it down.

“Please help see to them. I’ll make sure you have enough supplies.” Hernan went to leave when a gentle hand stopped him.

“Are you alright?”

A crooked smile graced his features. “I’ll be fine.”

Kirk wasn’t so certain, but Hernan brushed his hand away. He had other matters he needed to tend to. He rounded up his men and counted the dead. They dragged the bodies to the center, and freed their prisoners of war from the holding cell to fill it with their own prisoners.

“It’s the lieutenant!”

“The lieutenant general is here!”

“Help us, please help us!”

Hernan heard the cries before he saw them. Their hands reached out to him through the bars as he saw tears stream down their faces. It was hope, hunger for a life they didn’t think they had.

“You’re okay now,” Hernan promised before turning to Bekka. “See that these men get treatment. Also have someone check the food stores. I’m sure this fort should be stocked up. We’ll be holding here until everyone is well enough to travel. I shall also have a messenger sent to the Queen. She should know the mission was a success and the fort has been taken.”

“Anything else?”

“No, that should be all for now, Major.”

“General.” Bekka saluted before going to carry out his orders. It finally gave Hernan a moment to himself. He shut the door behind him and heaved a great sigh. It was over.

His knees gave in. He sat upon the floor with hands stained red.

Everyone is a monster to someone he had said, so why did he see himself as his own demon? He had done something good that night, hadn’t he? He had saved those men from imprisonment. He watched as tears had streamed down their cheeks, and how they had reached for him as their savor, and yet his hands still shook.

Why?

A sudden knock on his door pulled him from his thoughts. He didn’t answer, yet the door slowly opened. Kirk slipped inside with a bowl of water and clean cloth. He didn’t comment on how Hernan was hunched in the corner with bloodied hands across his knees. He didn’t say a word of how Hernan didn’t look at him, or say anything to him for that matter.

Rather he silently knelt before him and took one of Hernan’s bloodied hands. He dipped the clean cloth and soaked it in water before carefully washing away the blood.

Hernan retracted his hand. “You’re getting wet.”

“That’s what you protest to?” Kirk scoffed, and took the hand once more with a firmer grip. “I will tell you what you told me the first night you saw me transform. If you don’t clean yourself, then I will.”

Hernan let a mirthful huff slip. How the times have changed. If he remembered that night correctly, he did end up cleaning Kirk in the end with much protest on Kirk’s end. He ended up getting bitten and scratched, but Kirk was clean by the end of it and Hernan was soaked.

Hernan didn’t put up a fight. He allowed Kirk to wash his hands even if the water was cold. When his hands were clean of blood, Kirk dipped the cloth in the water once more and moved to wipe at the blood that splattered Hernan’s cheek.

The movement was slow, giving Hernan a chance to move away, tell Kirk not to, but he didn’t. He didn’t move. He didn’t say a thing. He remained still as Kirk gently washed away the blood from his cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose.

“I’m afraid you still confound me,” Kirk said softly. Hernan raised his head to finally look at Kirk. Those red eyes studied him carefully in turn.

“Do I scare you?” Hernan asked.

Kirk shook his head. “You do not have the disposition to.”

“Are you certain?”

“I do not fear someone who holes themselves up after a fight wondering whether they are a monster.”

Hernan’s lips moved to deny it, but the words never came.

“I know,” Kirk began by Hernan’s bewildered look, “because I used to do the same.”

“Used to?”

“I was too worried about you, I wasn’t able to question myself this time.”

“Ah.” Hernan smiled. “I see. I’m glad to be of service.”

Kirk hummed. “Do you think of me as a monster?”

“No,” Hernan replied though Kirk watched him carefully as he answered.

“Then what makes you a monster?”

“I…” Hernan took a deep breath, before bowing his head once more. “People call me a god. I am powerful – can do things no one else can, and yet…”

Hernan paused for it was not what he was trying to say before he began again, but this time from the beginning.  “I used to blame humans. Humans forced me to be this way because of how greedy they are. It was what my father had said. He told me that human’s greed is all consuming. They are selfish beings, a quality which I could exploit for my own amusement.

“But over the years, I’ve met few humans who were not consumed with greed. There were people who cared for each other and even took care of a complete stranger. Yet those people always had one fault: they allowed people who would take advantage of their kindness to be their downfall.

“I told you my name is Hernan, but I never told you how I got that name. It was a time when I was young and reckless. I know that’s hard for you to imagine.” Hernan added when he saw a small smile tug the corner of Kirk’s lips. “But I was not always this old and wise.”

“I see, old wise one.”

Hernan smiled before continuing. “I had no place to go, and was in hiding from the soldiers of the state. But she, without knowing anything about me, took me in. It was a family of poor farmers with little for themselves, yet they sheltered me and hid me from their own king and asked nothing in return.

“When I wouldn’t give her a name, she called me Hernan, and despite them never asking for help, I helped around the pastures. That was my mistake. It wasn’t long before a neighbor told the king, and they sent their armies. He made an example of them by burning them in their own home, and I in turn, slaughtered every soldier.

“But it was too late; I was too late. I couldn’t save them after everything they had done for me. So I kept the name Hernan as a reminder of why I am a monster. I’m a monster because I must be. I am a monster because only monsters can kill other monsters. I am a monster, so she, and others like her, don’t have to be.”

Hernan looked up at Kirk who had remained silent. What could he say to that? Was there anything he could say? Hernan didn’t think there was anything Kirk could do, but that was hardly his fault. Just him listening, and being there with him was enough. But then Kirk had moved. His arms wrapped around Hernan, even if stiffly, as he hugged him.

Hernan was speechless. He didn’t think Kirk was one to show such affection, but Kirk had moved on his own accord. It was him hugging Hernan, and not Hernan who had initiated it.

Hernan returned the embrace. He wrapped his arms around Kirk, and held him close. Perhaps it was not words he was looking for, perhaps it was this, but then Kirk had surprised him again.

“If everyone is a monster to someone, you are not mine,” Kirk said words Hernan didn’t think would ever help him, yet he held Kirk closer to him all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I'm sorry if the kingdom names sound a little ridiculous, but I struggled, and I think they're funny. So thank you to SRB chat for suggesting them.


	9. Chapter 9

Time had passed, as it was not long before Hernan’s seemingly miraculous victory was told throughout the Kingdom and even across the borders.

“He’s not a natural man,” one would say to another in the pub.

“I’ve seen him on the battlefield once,” would say another. “He’s demonic.”

“He’s like a god, Aries incarnate.” the women would laugh.

“Demon spawn or not, he’s rather handsome.”

“Ah, but if the devil were truly hideous, no one would fall for their tricks.” the man wagged his finger in her courtly face.

“That is quite enough.” Amanda Waller’s voice left no room for argument. “He may defeat his enemies with a sword, but let our tongues be just as sharp. If we do not focus on the political side of things, his victories on the battlefield would be for naught.”

“As you say, your highness.” the man bowed deeply, although his upper lip curled in resentment.

“Have you news from the King of Thanagar?”

“Yes, your highness. He was not pleased about his fort being taken, however, he says that if we were to pull back our men, he may overlook your transgressions, and reconsider the peace treaty.”

“Very well. What of Gotham?”

“The King of Gotham has agreed to make peace so far as his other allies agree to your terms as well.”

“That leaves us with the Emperor of Oa. What news have we of them?”

“There’s talk of him planning to make one last attempt at our borders, Your Highness.”

“I see. Send word to the Lieutenant General to concede the fort and take the abled bodies he has to our borders of Kent.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

 

* * *

 

Hernan had the soldiers who were the most critical, transferred to a separate ward of the compound. There, Kirk could work without being questioned by any of Hernan’s men as to who he was.

The fort had some medical supplies, but not nearly enough for the extensive injuries Kirk had to oversee, and the number of patients he had. Both Hernan and Bekka offered a hand in whatever small tasks they could. Because Hernan had a steadier hand than Bekka when it came to suturing, Bekka cleaned the infected areas then Hernan would suture.

When provisions were low, Hernan would make nightly trips back to the capital for more supplies. The three of them worked diligently, helping not only Hernan’s men who were injured from the fight and imprisonment, but also their enemies.

It was wiser, for lack of resources to let the enemy soldiers die, but because this was not their war, Hernan insisted they’d be treated too. It was a war between empires, they just had the misfortune of their kings never lifting a sword themselves.

Kirk didn’t argue. There was simply no time to. Only once he was sure he did all he could do for the patients, he sat down heavily beside one to check their bandaging.

“Stop, you need to rest.” Hernan spoke softly.

“But I should—”

“You’ve done more than enough. Now it’s time that you go rest.” Hernan handed Kirk a damp cloth to clean his hands.

“Thank you.” Kirk conceded, if reluctantly so.

“They will be fine.”

“Don’t say that yet. We’ve been able to stop or slow down the progression of infection for most, but for others, they are still experiencing muscle deterioration.”

“Will they have to be amputated?”

Kirk made a face. “I hope not.”

Hernan nodded in agreement. “Well for now, the best you can do is get some rest. I think this is the longest time I’ve seen you awake.”

“How long has it been?” Kirk asked since the place Hernan had set them up had no windows.

“Three days.”

Kirk looked amazed himself.

“Alright,”  he conceded. He raised his hood to hide his features, and followed Hernan closely through the compound to a secluded room. Kirk recognized the dark coat at the end of the bed.

“Is this your room?”

“Yes, but I do not need the space for now.”

“But don’t you need rest too?” Kirk asked.

Hernan went to deny Kirk’s claims, but cold fingers found his and pulled him into the room.

“If you are subjecting me to sleep, then you should suffer the same fate.”

Hernan laughed, but conceded nonetheless. “You’ve gotten rather fussy lately.”

“Lack of sleep can do that.”

“I see,” Hernan replied in a manner of which he didn’t see at all, but for his amusement, he would allow it.

Kirk was the first to crawl into bed. His fingers went to unclasp his cloak when he paused. “Do you have a spare shirt I could borrow?”

“Of course.” Hernan also carried a few extras just in case he was in a rush and ripped his shirt to sprout his wings. He handed one to Kirk. Kirk shouldered off his cloak and allowed the dark material to pool at his waist before he slipped the light material over his head.

Red eyes met his. Hernan was quick to look away.

“I know I insisted you rest, but you do not seem all that tired.”

“Perhaps I will in a few moments,” Kirk replied.

Hernan removed his boots before looking over at Kirk who seemed to look at him expectantly. Did he wish to share the bed? Well it wasn’t the first time they had, though Hernan questioned why he thought it odd now.

Nonetheless, he moved to sit next to Kirk.

“How is this working?” Hernan asked bluntly. “Shall I pull up an extra cot? Both our frames are not fitting side by side.”

“Just lay down,” Kirk told him rather boldly. Hernan didn’t have the will to disobey. He did as Kirk instructed and lied down on his back. Only then did Kirk come to lie beside him with his head resting on Hernan’s chest.

He smiled. “You’re warm.”

“I see now. I’m just here to keep you warm.”

“After the hours you’ve made me work, it’s only fair.”

Hernan couldn’t argue with that. Instead he wrapped an arm around Kirk if only to be more comfortable. Kirk didn’t seem to mind. In only minutes, Kirk was sound asleep judging by the slow of his breathing. How quickly he could fall asleep made Hernan smile. Nonetheless, he wasn’t far behind.

The next couple of nights, Hernan worried less and less about sharing the bed. It was like when they shared a closet space of a room at the church. But then he would catch the length of Kirk’s legs from beneath his shirt, or the small twitch of his nose when he thought of something unpleasant, and Hernan’s discomfort returned.

Kirk didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ve received orders from the Queen that we are to concede the fort, and move east towards Kent.”

“Now? But what about the wounded?” Kirk questioned.

“I will have to figure out a transfer arrangement. Do you think they will be able to make the trip?”

“Back to the capital?” Kirk was at a loss for words. “Maybe some, but not all. Not to mention, how will you transport all of them with so little provisions to do so?”

“How many of them are ours and how many are the enemies?”

“Forty-two are ours, and eighty-seven are theirs.”

“How many of ours can’t walk?”

“At all? Eleven.”

“I can work with that. Prepare the forty-two for transport. I’ll have stretchers made for the eleven by this evening. We’ll depart in the morning.”

“To the east?”

“You and I will go East. The rest will return to the capital. It will take them all if any of the wounded have a hope of returning home.”

“Will you have enough in numbers in the east then?”

Hernan smiled. “I have you, that should be enough.”

“As much as I appreciate your confidence in me, it is ill founded.”

“I’ll be back soon, but I have no doubt in my mind of your success. I’m relying on you.”

“Hernan, you can’t just…” Kirk called after him, but he was gone before he could finish his thought. He sighed to himself, wondering if this was how Bekka felt.

Hernan knew at times he was insufferable, but he was not one to ever lie. He did trust in Kirk’s ability to have the men ready for transport in the morning, and he did trust Kirk to have his back in the east. Although, the Queen’s timing was poor at best. He still didn’t know why his men were held at the fort, and why they were found in such poor conditions. Were they following orders, or was the lieutenant monstrous enough to find pleasure in torture?

“Open the cell.”

The man rushed to his feet to open the cell for Hernan, and stayed closely to his lieutenant if anything should go wrong.

Hernan looked down at the man. His right eye was black, and swollen shut. Blood still stained his clothes and dirt still marred his face. Hernan could see a good-sized lump from where he had kicked him earlier.

“What do you want?” he spat at Hernan’s feet. The spit was clear, Hernan remarked, more than the actual act itself. What the man could say or do regarding Hernan was superficial, a bug groveling beneath his boot, and Hernan would gladly remind him if he felt it necessary.

Rather, he got to the point. “What use did you have for imprisoning my men?”

“Other than ransoming them off?”

“This war is coming to an end. Ransoming prisoners of war has been established as unlawful for more than a century in this part of the world.”

“And yet you came here, risking your life, and your men to save what? A battalion worth of men? You can’t win the war with such numbers.” he laughed incredulously. “And here I thought I was talking to the infamous Lieutenant. Pitiful. Prisoners of war is inevitable in war, and yet you ask me why. Fuck off, asshole.”

The lieutenant seethed, yet Hernan’s features remained unmoved. “Are you quite finished?”

“No, who are you to hold me like this, yet you let my men walk freely with yours? You think they’re grateful? You think they’ll join your army? You’ve got shit for brains, you fucking—”

Hernan kicked the man’s chair back, sending him falling backwards. His head struck the ground earning a pained cry from the lump at the back of his head and his hands tied behind his back now being crushed by his own weight.

“Worms shouldn’t be so high from the ground,” Hernan said with a look in his eye that silenced the lieutenant immediately. “After all, someone who is so eager to please his king that he forgets about his men, can only be a worm: a creature ready to eat the shit it’s given.”

The man sneered, but didn’t comment further to Hernan’s surprise. Nonetheless, he continued.

“As for why I’ve let your men walk freely among mine is because they are but pawns to Kings –disposable in a war that is not theirs. Your men know this, my men know this, but the difference between my men and yours, is that they have a leader who can promise them a safe return. You only care about your own life, and your men despise you for it. So much so, that when I leave this fort, they’ve agreed to keep you here in this very cell until they feel like releasing you.

“Now you can curse me all you want, or you can make use of your shit-for-brains, and help your situation. Isn’t that what you do best? Save your own skin?” Hernan knelt down closer to him when it was apparent he wasn’t going to defend himself. “So, I’ll ask you again, and I’ll even rephrase it to make it easier for you. Who is paying you to give my men, whom you’ve held at this fort despite your king’s wishes, to Gotham?”

The man’s nostrils flared in pent up rage, but it was clear there was nothing he could do to better his situation. Hernan had him pinned. He cornered him in a way he never thought possible. Still, his lips remained in a thin line.

When a minute passed, Hernan sighed in a manner that belied his disappointment. He made to stand.

“Open the cell.”

“Wait!”

Hernan turned back as behind that bitter gaze was desperation, just like he knew there would be.

“It was Lord Chill who paid me. I don’t know why, and I know better than to ask.”

Lord Chill? Hernan was more than surprised, but he steeled his features and nodded in gratitude. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I shall plead your case to your men in repayment for your cooperation.”

The lieutenant scoffed, but Hernan didn’t stick around for long to hear whatever else he had to say. He got what he wanted, even if the information didn’t seem to all add up, it did make Hernan wonder how Lord Chill and Lord Moxon seemed to be connected.

What did Chill want with his men? Why did Moxon conceal Kirk?

Kirk…

Hernan feared how Kirk might be tied with everything. Was he truly innocent, a fly caught in their web, or was he— Hernan stopped himself. No, he had made his mind about Kirk. He had decided to trust him. Doubting him now would be detrimental for them both.

And though Hernan didn’t want to think of it, if Kirk really did end up being an accomplice to Moxon, then it would be better to keep him close, then to push him away before he could even prove it.

As promised, he spent the rest of the day cutting down tree limbs to make stretchers that could by carried by two or four men. Seeing as how long the trek back to the capitol would be, the men would have to cycle turns.

By evening, Hernan had them all made and ready for transport in the morning. He had Bekka relay the plan to the rest of his men. Although not all of them sounded pleased by the long trek, there was a sense of comradery to return their wounded brothers home safely.

Hernan caught Kirk in the corner arranging the supplies for transfer. No one seemed to pay him any heed. Those in what became the medical ward, were busy consoling their fallen friends, and ensuring they would survive the trip. Hernan hoped they would too.

“Thank you.”

Kirk looked over his shoulder to see Hernan behind him. He shook his head lightly. “Do you always come up with such grand ideas?”

Hernan returned the smile. “I only get away with it when I have people like you by my side.”

“I see, so you have a lot of vampire friends.”

“That was not the part I was referring to, but that does help as well,” Hernan conceded. “What can I do to help?”

“I’ve got most of it ready. You just need to transfer it to the cart.”

“I can do that.”

Kirk nodded. “Well, if there is nothing further I can do, I should retire.”

“I won’t be long,” Hernan promised. Kirk left with a small departing smile. He left knowing Hernan would most likely retire with him. It had become routine. One Hernan wasn’t so sure of. He didn’t dislike it – he more than liked it, but how much he liked it… well that was the part Hernan couldn’t quite place.

He liked the way Kirk’s cool body felt against his. He liked the weight of his head on his shoulder, and how those cold fingers would sometimes trail absentmindedly across his arm.

Hernan also wasn’t blind to acknowledge how he watched Kirk shift the dark cloak from his shoulders. Sometimes he would do it sitting so the fabric would pool at his waist. Other times he did it standing, so it pooled at his feet, revealing long legs, the small arch of his back, and…

Hernan stopped himself. He took the supplies Kirk had neatly ordered to the carts stationed at the center of the compound for tomorrow’s departure. He didn’t notice the time that passed by, or how he took one crate at a time instead of several at once. He lined them up neatly and even took more supply crates beyond the ones Kirk had prepared.

Hernan slid in the last crate when he noticed he was not alone.

“Shouldn’t you be getting some rest?”

Hernan glanced over at Bekka. Her chin rested upon the railing of the cart with a self-pleased smirk as if she were a cat before spilled milk.

“I could ask you the same.”

“Hm, but I asked first.”

“By all means, ladies first.”

Bekka punched him in the arm for using such a sorry excuse.

“Fine,” Hernan conceded. “I’m making sure everything is ready for tomorrow.”

“I thought that was my job,” Bekka replied as she came to lean against the cart next to Hernan.

“I’m just checking.”

“Uh-huh.” Bekka hummed doubtfully. “You know, you’re doing a poor job of hiding Kirk recently.”

“It’s been… unavoidable.”

“That’s fair, however, I should warn you, the men are starting to talk.”

“Oh, and pray tell, what are they saying?”

“Only that Kirk is your witch doctor lover who has enchanted you to be invincible in battle.”

“Witch doctor lover?” Hernan parroted incredulously. “And what did you say?”

Bekka laughed. “Only that they’re half wrong.”

“So Kirk is a witch doctor?”

“I didn’t clarify which part, but I did allude to no magic being involved.”

“So you think I’ve bedded him.”

“Haven’t you?”

Hernan scoffed. “No, I haven’t.”

“But you’ve thought of it?”

“Good Lord, Bekka, why the sudden curiosity?”

“You didn’t deny it, and even if you did, I wouldn’t believe you.” Bekka smirked at the mock of hurt on Hernan’s face.

“Despite what people say I do not bed everything that moves.”

“I never said Kirk is like that to you, but if you’re not thinking about having such kind of relations with him, then why have you kept him around, or rather why is still at your side?”

“We’ve become good friends. I have helped him and he has helped me. There is nothing more to it. Also, enough about me, what about you? Are you really going to marry Steve?”

It was Bekka’s turn to scoff. “Who I marry is none of your concern.”

“As the person who has been with you for several years, I hope you would have enough faith to tell me you’re getting married.”

“And as the person who has been with me for several years, I would hope you would like him.” Bekka seethed back between clenched teeth.

“It’s not that I don’t like him. I just wished he would actually marry you instead of saying he will.”

Bekka was taken back for a moment. The almost hurt look on her face made Hernan regret he had ever said anything. However, before Hernan could apologize, Bekka leaned against the cart once more with a heavy sigh.

“Me too.” she crossed arms with a forlorn look in her eyes. “You think that makes me crazy?”

“No,” Hernan said honestly. “I don’t think your love for him is crazy, but love can make you do crazy things.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I worry. I worry that you’ll be hurt in the end. I worry you’ll sacrifice things you shouldn’t have for him, but I most of all, I worry about your happiness.”

“You worry too much.”

Hernan smiled. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I know.” Bekka returned the smile. “Thank you, Hernan, and I wish you’d find happiness too. You might live forever, but that doesn’t mean you have to be lonely forever.”

“I’m not lonely. I have you.”

“You’re sweet.” Bekka laughed, though her fingers found his through the early light of dawn. “Yes, Hernan, you’ll always have me.”

Hernan pulled Bekka close. She had come such a long way. He couldn’t be prouder of her, but at the same time, he knew he had to let her go. She would be heading west, and him east, but for now, they only held each other.

_‘My dearest, Bekka, may you find happiness in love.’_

When Hernan opened the door to his room, Kirk’s back was towards him. His long legs were tucked beneath him as his dark hair swept across his neck. Hernan had a momentary impulse to sweep the dark hair aside and press a gentle kiss to the nape of his neck, but he refrained himself.

He admitted he found Kirk beautiful. He still remembered the first night he had seen him bathed in moonlight. His lips dripped red, and a hungry fire burned in those eyes. He wanted to touch him – to know he was real, that such a person could exist.

Hernan stilled. His hand had a mind of its own as it stroked the back of Kirk’s exposed shoulder. Kirk gravitated towards the warm touch. He turned towards him but never woke.

Hernan sighed in relief. Despite his feelings, it would be burdensome to push them onto Kirk. What Kirk needed was support, and to know Hernan’s actions were founded on pure intentions alone. So he retracted his hand, and tried to quell his desires. What Kirk needed was a friend, so Hernan would be just that.


	10. Chapter 10

Hernan wiped the sweat from his brow. Although the light of the moon was more forgiving than that of the blistering sun, the two of them had been at it for hours.

“Again,” Hernan instructed although his sword remained lax at his side. He did not move until Kirk had.

He parried the blow. The metal clashed with a grating sound. Most found the noise unsightly, but it made Hernan’s blood rush. He didn’t move to attack Kirk, but only reacted to him. Every strike was blocked. Every swift movement of the blade, Hernan was just as fast.

“This is pointless,” Kirk argued for the hundredth time. Before Hernan could retort, he felt himself reeling backwards from a hard kick to the abdomen.

“If you were a man, this fight would have ended just now.” Kirk stuck his sword into the ground with a sense of finality.

Despite Hernan’s best efforts to mask his exasperation, he allowed his pettiness to get the best of him. As Kirk reached down to help him up, Hernan grabbed his wrist, and pulled him down.

Kirk was quick to retaliate.

With his leg wrapped around Hernan’s, he flipped their positions with a sly smirk when looking down at wide blue eyes. Hernan laughed, but even so, the tables were turned again and Kirk found himself once more pinned beneath Hernan’s body.

Now it was Hernan’s turn to smirk.

Kirk didn’t look half as pleased. “So, I’m supposed to swing a sword around and pray for the best?”

“Yes.”

Kirk’s upper lip curled up ever so slightly to reveal his deadly fangs beneath. It was a habit Hernan had noticed Kirk did when he highly disagreed with him. It was cute.

As soon as the thought appeared, Hernan made to get up from Kirk. He had promised he would be a friend, and so that’s what he would be. He reached down a helping hand, only for Kirk to pull him back down.

“Now we’re even,” Kirk stated a little too triumphantly once Hernan’s back hit the ground beside him.

Hernan didn’t bother to stand up again, and neither did Kirk. The two laid side by side, with hearts thrumming after hours of swordplay. Hernan had been teaching Kirk how to wield a sword for a month much to Kirk’s lack of enthusiasm.

But this battle was different. It was not going to be like reclaiming the fort. There would be rows of firing lines, cavalry, canons, and when the air was clouded by gun smoke, the two sides would clash. With the number of soldiers there would be, Kirk wouldn’t fare well with just his strength, claws, and fangs. He would have to use a sword if only to protect himself.

Although, as Hernan thought about it more, the more he regretted bringing Kirk to the front. Hernan was never afraid of dying, but now, so close to seeing the end of this war… He saw a future that wasn’t just another war. It wasn’t just another calm before a storm. It was peace. He wanted to find peace, and he wanted that peace to be with Kirk.

It was a selfish desire. It was greedy, and as a creature who was born from greed, the thought should be natural. It should be normal. It should be welcomed, and yet a pit grew in his gut, building in a heaviness which stilled his feet.

It was a fool’s dream.

“This is to be the last battle?” Kirk broke the silence between them. Was he too thinking about the end?

Hernan nodded, although his gaze remained upon the night sky above them. “Yes, this should be the last one.”

“As a god of war, what does that mean for you then?”

“It means peace.”

He heard the shifting of the grass by the turning of Kirk’s head to look at him, but Hernan didn’t dare to look. He didn’t dare to look at the red of those eyes.

“Do you believe in wishing upon stars?” Hernan asked to make Kirk look up. “How many do you think we could make?”

“From my view, 2,334.”

Hernan turned to look at Kirk. “2,334? Did you count that just now?”

Kirk nodded, although his features remained neutral compared to Hernan’s.

“How many leaves in that tree then?”

“227,721.”

“How about blades of grass?”

Kirk grimaced. “Please don’t ask me that.”

Hernan had burst out laughing much to Kirk’s surprise.

“Hernan?” Kirk sat up, his questioning gaze on Hernan who had rolled over so his back was to him. Even so, Kirk could see his shoulders shaking from the poorly concealed fits of laughter that broke through him.

“I… I’m sorry…” Hernan said between fits of laughter. “I – that’s incredible. I had my suspicions but I didn’t know it was that instantaneous.”

Kirk shook his head lightly. “Well I’m glad you find it so funny.”

“Oh, I don’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s alright. By all means, laugh.”

“Hey.” Hernan picked up a dandelion from beside his head and sat up to face Kirk. “look.”

Hernan took a deep breath, and gently blew. The white orb of seeds was set ablaze before red eyes.

“Are we even?”

Kirk’s features remained unyielding. “I’m pretty sure setting dandelions on fire won’t make your wish come true.”

Hernan conceded. “You are right, but there are also 2,000 stars in the sky. One dandelion won’t hurt.”

“That is where you are wrong.” Hernan rose a dark brow as he put out the small flame. “You can’t share stars, and I’ve already wished upon all of them.”

Hernan looked aghast. “Such betrayal.”

It was Kirk’s turn to laugh as Hernan was amazed.

“What did you wish for?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Tell me.” Hernan wasn’t above pouting.

Kirk wasn’t moved in the slightest. Rather his laughter increased, and so Hernan did the only logical thing a big child could do: he tackled him. Kirk was sent reeling, eyes wide with surprise, but he didn’t fight him back this time.

Instead his hand came up to seal his words.

“Is one of them not fighting with a sword?”

“That’s a possibility.” Kirk’s voice was muffled, but Hernan could still make out the words. Even so, he pressed closer with a hand cupping his own ear.

“How about chin rubs?”

Hernan’s smile widened at the furrowing of Kirk’s brows in an expressive _‘no’_. He imagined his hand hid the accompanying pout.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Kirk lowered his hand revealing not a pout but a small quirk of his lips. “I didn’t wish for that.”

Hernan felt his jaw drop. The sly devil. He couldn’t help but laugh. Despite how quiet Kirk usually was during the day, at night, when it was just the two of them, he wasn’t afraid to tease him with a mirthful glint in his read eyes and an alluring, upward curl of his lips.

Hernan’s smile softened. “Well, whatever the many things you wished for may be, I hope they come true.”

Even if Kirk was just joking, whether he didn’t wish upon all the stars, if he wished on some it meant he had something to look forward to. After seeing Kirk on his knees only months ago, seeing him dream, well Hernan knew Kirk was starting to feel better, and as a friend, he was happy for him.

“C’mon, we should be heading back.” Hernan rolled off of Kirk the second time that night and brushed himself off. He helped him up, and this time, Kirk didn’t drag him down. However, he did notice how Kirk’s smile seemed to have waned.

He looked up at the stars one last time before following Hernan back to the camp.

They had arrived a week before the Queen’s men. Kirk at the time was tucked in Hernan’s pocket in his bat form, sound asleep, as Hernan greeted them and set to work in setting up the large army along the tree lines of their border.

The scouts returned a few days later, to say Oa had set up their camp as well. It would be a full battle, the last battle to decide the victor in the end.

Because of this, Hernan had to dress as a Lieutenant. He couldn’t get away with his simple long dark coat, a dark shirt, and light breeches tucked into his boots. Now he had to dress up in a long-skirted coat layered over a pale waist coat with copper buttons.

The coat was a navy blue with velvet lapels outlined by golden thread. The braids accenting both the front and back were gold as well as the epaulettes fastened on either side of his shoulders to establish his rank.

Hernan fixed his steinkirk around his neck, letting the body of it hang lose before the very ends were tucked into his waistcoat.

He felt like a puppet.

“You look rather handsome.” Kirk complimented with a small smirk tugging the corner of his lips. “Are you not going to wear a wig too?”

“No,” Hernan said as he placed the black tricorn hat over his natural short hair. “They get in the way.”

Kirk nodded and said no further. Instead he came to fix Hernan’s cravat. Although it was styled to be lose, it wasn’t meant to be so lose it looked sloppy.

He smiled. “There, you look ready for a fight, Lieutenant General.”

Hernan’s hands moved on their own to smoothen out the lapels of Kirk’s uniform. It was simpler than his, but helped him fit in with the rest of the men.

“As do you, soldier.” Hernan’s smile faltered for only a moment. He still worried about Kirk. This wasn’t a solo mission in which the two of them could embark on like the past. It was a formal battle, of guns, and canons, and hordes of people. Kirk could be easy to lose, and Hernan had feared the worst.

“Listen, stay close to me. It’s easy to get lost in the heat of a battle. I don’t want to lose track of you. If you happen to—”

“Hernan,” Kirk interjected “You need not worry so much. I’ll be right beside you. I’m supposed to guard your back, am I not?”

A huff of a laugh escaped him, but he couldn’t find the courage to smile. He was still worried. He was still terrified, but then cold fingers found his. They interlaced with Hernan’s, holding him tight.

“You won’t lose me, and I won’t be losing you either,” Kirk promised. “This may not be my war, but if ending it will bring you peace, then I will help you.”

Hernan expected Kirk to let go, but he didn’t. He looked up at him meeting red eyes with a look he hadn’t seen before. But it was warm with a soft curve his lips, and he knew he couldn’t be afraid. He was terrified, but for both their sakes, he needed to trust him.

He squeezed the hand in his tightly. “Stay close to me.”

Kirk’s smile widened. “I will.”

Hernan nodded, but didn’t take his hand away and neither did Kirk. It wasn’t until he heard his name from outside his tent being called in which he finally let go.

It was time.

Hernan looked at Kirk one last time, hoping he would change his mind. To stay here and wait for him, but Kirk’s look said anything but. He wasn’t waiting for anyone. Hernan was a mix between proud and fearful, but he swallowed it all down, and went to join his men.

In military terms, Hernan was only the third most powerful. Waller had said her people would not tolerate a foreigner being ranked any higher despite his tactical brilliance in war. This caused him to end up in quarrels with the other two higher ranked officers: the Colonel General, and the Field Marshal.

They had argued for days about what the plan of defense should be. The Colonel General wanted to concentrate the firing line at the center. If the enemy went over the hill, then they should be met with fire.

“It’s not enough,” Hernan had claimed. They would need a motive to come straight down the middle. They would have to have to have fire squads on both sides of the hill as well as the center.

“We’re limited in men,” the Field Marshal shot down the idea. “We can’t afford to spread our troops so thinly.”

“We may have less men than the enemy, but we have the land to our advantage.” Hernan pointed to sections of the map that were advantageous to them. There was a steep drop of the hill into a flat width of land at lower elevation. If they could prevent them from going around the valley, it would be a blood bath, but that was only if they could force the enemy to dive headfirst down the hill. They would need flankers to force them.

“Not only should we have men stationed on the east and west side, but we should have men stationed in the town of Kent itself.”

“Are you mad?” the Field Marshal had slammed his fist at such a suggestion.

“I’ve had a scout count their numbers, and I have reason to believe a regiment of theirs is missing. If I’m correct, they are most likely marching to Kent in order to complete the original mission, and collapse upon us from all sides.”

“What scout?”

“He’s very good at numbers,” Hernan promised.

“I don’t care whether he’s good at counting or not. We need all the fire power we’ve got. We’ll have the firing line surrounding the basin.

“But what about the town?”

“The town is none of our concern.”

Hernan of course, felt otherwise. So, against orders, he had stationed his unit of troops near the town. The battle would be smaller in size than the one that would be taking place in the basin. Nonetheless, Hernan knew the enemy would send a regiment to attack the town first, so they would have enough time to flank from behind.

“Prime and load!” Hernan gave the order. His men immediately prepared their muskets to fire. Hernan could hear the troops approaching. By the thundering sound of their feet, it was indeed a regiment, and heading straight down the middle towards the town.

It was not long until his men had heard them too, and realized Hernan was not wrong. They steeled themselves for a fight.

“Make Ready!” Hernan gave the next command in which they shouldered their muskets and took aim. Hidden behind the stone wall, they waited for the enemy troops to come closer.

When Hernan could make sight of all of them, and there was no turning back, he knew it was time.

“Fire!”

The first round went off, catching the enemy regiment by surprise. As the first few of them fell, the rest scrambled to assemble a firing line themselves.

“Make ready… fire!” Hernan ordered again. The men from the first line knelt to reload their muskets as those behind them fired. It was a cycle, a well-ordered system which overwhelmed the enemy.

Hernan had split his men up, so that the main firing squad was at the center, with flankers on either side of the path. When the enemy soldiers tried to flee by the side of the path to avoid the gun fire, they were met by the pointed end of bayonets, and swords.

“Fire!”

A last volley of gunfire, and Hernan was off. With one hand held tightly to the reins of his horse, the other reached for the hilt of his sword. He withdrew his blade and began to cut his way through the middle. His cavalry unit followed suit.

All he heard were cries as men fell left and right. Metal grated against another sharp edge, until coming to strike at soft flesh. His movements were unfathomable, naked to the human eye by the number of parries he blocked, and the marks he left behind.

 _‘This will be over soon.’_ Hernan thought. _‘Then there will be peace.’_

His men converged on the enemy soldiers left standing and corralled those who surrendered.

“Tie them up and leave them with the villagers. The rest of you, fall back!”

Hernan steered his horse through the town to where the rest of the army fought. Just as his fight ended, the other fight had begun. He heard the thundering of the canons as they opened fire.

He dug his heels in, urging his steed to go faster. His Calvary was right behind him. His horse weaved through the trees and leaped over fallen logs. He could hear the wild pounding of her heart, and the powerful breathes she took with each bounding leap. It made his own blood rush, and his hands tremor in excitement.

Wounded cries could be heard over the treetops. Yelling, shouting of various commands as men scrambled without know, without how, but simply that they were still alive. Sloppy. It was sloppy and messy, and made Hernan simmer.

They field marshals and colonels could curse him all they wanted, but they didn’t teach their men how to fight. They didn’t teach them how to load and fire their muskets to such precision they could fire four shots per minute.

But one voice rang out above the rest. Hearing it – hearing her, made him go that much faster.

“Hold the line,” he had told Bekka. “Do not strike until there is no point of return.”

“And if I should I shoot the other men who do rush in?”

“I trust your aim, as well as theirs.”

An incredulous smile broke across her features, but the flare behind her blue eyes said she knew.

“Ready... Fire!” her voice commanded, and an explosion of gun powder fired into the basin below.

His hands tightened around the reins.

“Ready!” He shouted at his own men, as he withdrew his sword once more, and raised it towards the sky for his men to see. “Charge!”

His sword sliced down, as his Calvary broke through the tree lines, and rushed the army from behind. Bekka too, had heard his signal, and knew it was time to go. With Hernan flanking from behind, he forced the enemy to fall into the basin, straight down the middle as the Colonel had wished in which they were met with rounds of gun fire, and clash of soldiers.

It was hard to see anything but red. Red of the coats, red of the uniforms, red of the blood which spilled across the land.

Hernan’s horse reared back, throwing him off balance. He immediately rolled to the side to avoid her if she should fall, but she was on her feet. He slapped the back of her to get her moving, and she galloped to safety. He was fine. Her job was done. She got him here, he could get himself out.

It was easier to move on his own. His body had a mind of its own, well-tuned to war as he moved through the battlefield.

But then a rogue canon had fired. Hernan ducked from the spray of debris that showered over him from the impact. Another shot, and Hernan felt himself being pulled back. A cold hand grasped his arm, and he immediately held on.

He kicked the ground for further leverage, as the hand pulled him up and onto the back of a galloping horse.

“Where’d you get a horse?” Hernan shouted over the cacophony. He had left Kirk with Bekka, thinking it was safer for him there. She would keep him safe, and he would meet up with him in the end. But there was Kirk mounted and grinning back at him.

He didn’t even know he could ride.

“Swing my sword around and hope for the best, right?”

“You killed someone for it?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

Hernan laughed. “Not surprised… impressed.”

Hernan could hear Kirk scoff. “You seem to keep forgetting, I have your back.”

Hernan smiled. “Indeed you do.”

Kirk took care of the front, as Hernan took care of the rear. His back pressed against his, but Kirk didn’t seem deterred in the slightest. Even when they had dismounted at one point, Hernan felt Kirk beside him. Kirk never strayed too far from him. When an enemy tried to jump him from behind, Kirk was there to cut him down. If someone tried to go after Kirk, Hernan was there to stop them.

Their movements were swift, and nearly synchronized. No one could touch Hernan, and Hernan didn’t dare let anyone get close to Kirk.

The numbers on either side were dwindling, but Hernan saw more blue than red, until suddenly there was white.

The white banner flew through the air like a beacon. It was a silent cry heard across the battlefield: peace.

It was peace.

It was the end; the war was over.

 

* * *

 

The town of Kent was filled with merry. Music chorused from every door to every window as the cries that filled the air was no longer of pain but of laughter. The pubs were overrun with soldiers, most still bloody from battle. They had no time nor clothes to change, but immediately wanted to know they were alive. They swigged back the briny beer, clunked glasses with anyone they met, and held onto any person who happened to cross their path.

Hernan sat himself in a corner and chugged back a mug. He humored many of the men who came to praise their victory, but really, he was tired. It had been a long battle. It might have only lasted a couple of hours but it felt like days.

 “You’re making merry.” Hernan glanced up from his mug to see a large smirk tugging on the corner of his lips. “Is this seat taken?”

“By all means.” Hernan moved over a little to allow Kirk more room at the bar. All the while, those red eyes never left his face.

“You have a little…”

Kirk reached to thumb at Hernan’s cheek.

“Blood?”

“Mud,” Kirk replied. “Blood, well you really need a bath for that.”

Hernan huffed. He looked Kirk over to see how muddy or covered in blood he was. However, Kirk didn’t seem too out of place. His navy coat seemed just dark enough to mask most of the blood spatter. Meanwhile his face was clear of dirt and grim. The only red on his cheeks was that of a little sunburn. With such fair skin, it made sense he would not stand the sun for long. However, the redness made him more human-like in appearance, so Hernan didn’t say anything further on the subject.

“When the sun starts to set, we’ll head back.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here and celebrate?”

“I’m quite sure,” Hernan said as he rubbed his temples sorely. He felt a headache starting to set in. It was most likely due to tiredness. The rowdiness of the men around him didn’t help.

“On second thought, let’s get a head start.” Hernan made to stand with helpful hands from Kirk to steady himself. As he went to leave, there was a rhythmic slamming of mugs upon the tables. Both Kirk and Hernan paused.

“Steve! Steve! Steve!” the men chanted and stomped their feet.

The man himself was roused to stand, pushed forward by his fellow men who parted like the Red Sea until he was standing before Bekka who looked rather confused. Still the men chorused his name until Steve conceded. He raised his hands in defeat which silenced them.

“Bekka,” Steve returned his attention to her. A bewildered smile broke across her features, and only widened when Steve reached into his breast pocket. “Through the battle, I kept these close to my heart as a reminder of why I fought – to bring me the strength I needed to see the end of this war. It was you who said, let the end of the war be our beginning. Well, Bekka… I want to start our beginning.”

Steve knelt before her on bended knee with three rings in his palm. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes. Steve… Yes!” Bekka laughed as she leapt from her seat to embrace him. The force of her excitement nearly overwhelmed him, but by the large smile that broke across his face, it was clear, he was happier than ever.

The men cheered, happy for the two newly betrothed. Steve slipped one ring on Bekka’s finger, and she slipped the second on his. The third… Steve looked over to where Hernan was standing. Kirk had let Hernan be as to not be seen, so Hernan couldn’t rely on Kirk to escape.

Rather he took his old mug and raised it towards Steve and Bekka, “May these years of peace be your most joyous. I fully bless your marriage.”

Hernan was the closest thing Bekka had to a relative. When she heard his blessing, Bekka overwhelmed Hernan too. She hugged him tighter than he had ever remembered before, whispering endless gratitude in his ear.

Hernan was all too happy to return the embrace.

“Here,” Steve handed Hernan the third ring. It was a thin gold band with a small red ruby heart at the center. “It’s a Gimmal ring. It was my grandparents’. Bekka and I have ones with a hand. On our wedding day, all three rings will come together to form one. Since you are the most important person to us both, you should carry the third ring for us.”

“Are you certain?” Hernan asked, since he wasn’t very discreet about not liking Steve, but Steve gave Hernan a clap on the shoulder.

“Yes, I’m certain you are most suited as our ring bearer.”

Hernan smiled. “Then the honor is mine, thank you. I wish you two the utmost happiness.”

“As I do you.” Bekka replied with a not so subtle look towards Kirk who stood outside the pub.

Hernan lightly shook his head but nonetheless thanked her. He hugged her one last time, before making his way to where Kirk stood.

“Let’s go.”

“Bekka’s getting married.” Kirk more so stated than asked.

“Yes, to Steve.”

“Are you happy?”

Hernan paused for a moment at the question.

Truthfully, he was. He was happy Bekka finally had her love returned, so why wasn’t he smiling?

Red eyes looked up at him expectantly, waiting for an answer in which Hernan lightly nodded. “Yes, I’m happy for her… more than happy for her. I’m just tired.”

“I see, then let me ride,” Kirk offered. Before Hernan could protest, Kirk had already gotten their horse set up to leave. He mounted first and patted behind him as a silent invitation for Hernan to hop on.

Hernan did.

Kirk carefully brought the horse to a slow canter and Hernan had held on to the back of the saddle.

“So why haven’t you ever mentioned that you could ride?”

“You never asked,” Kirk simply answered.

Hernan huffed, but as they continued to ride with the sun setting behind them, Hernan let his head rest against Kirk’s shoulder, and his arms wrap around his waist. He felt Kirk stiffen at first, but he soon relaxed. He didn’t bat Hernan’s hands away or tell him to stop, so Hernan remained.

He let his eyes fall close. He breathed in deeply, and simply felt himself let go. He let himself unwind knowing Kirk was there if anything should happen. He had his back. He always seemed to.

During the months they spent together, undergoing missions, fighting their way through impossible odds, Kirk was beside him. And if he were not immediately there, he was never too far behind.

  The thought alone tugged a smile upon Hernan’s weary features. However, now at a time of peace, at a time after war, would Kirk still be there? His hold around him tightened.

When he opened his eyes again, it was nightfall. The sky above him was dark, but what surprised him the most were the cool hands that ran through his short hair.

Red eyes looked down at surprised blue. “Rest well?”

“Yes, sorry.” Hernan slowly made to sit up since Kirk seemed to have laid him down with his head resting in his lap. “Where are we?”

“The next town over as instructed,” Kirk explained. “I left the horse behind and carried you here.”

“You carried me?”

“I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

“I see.” Hernan couldn’t help the small smile that crossed his lips at the image of Kirk carrying him through a town, across fields, and to the edge of the woods.

“C’mon, my turn to carry you.” Hernan offered a hand down to Kirk.

“Don’t forget your jacket,” Kirk remarked.

“Ah, yes, thank you.” Hernan shouldered off his jacket, and loosened his steinkirk. Kirk took them from him to free Hernan’s hands. Next was his constricting waist coat, and the last was the under shirt which he pulled over his head. Kirk took them all. He also picked up the small satchel Hernan had carried with him since the start of their journey.

“Ready.” Kirk confirmed, and Hernan picked Kirk up easily into his hold. His wings unfurled from his back, and they were off.

The night air was cool against his skin and the moon above them bright. The light seemed to illuminate the redness of Kirk’s burnt cheeks yet the lightness of his nose, and the darkness of those long lashes.

Hernan was reminded once more of when he first saw Kirk: a beauty under moonlight.

Kirk leaned into his hold. He rested his head upon Hernan’s shoulder, and Hernan returned his gaze towards the way back home. Even as he carefully landed before the manor, he didn’t set Kirk down. Carefully, he maneuvered the door open, and carried Kirk inside. The way Kirk smiled was one who knew the whole process would have been much easier if Hernan had let him go, but as Hernan walked him up the stairs, it would seem he had no plans of setting Kirk down.

It wasn’t until they had reached the room Kirk had made his own that Hernan set Kirk down on his feet.

“Thank you. I couldn’t imagine any other way of making it up all those stairs,” Kirk remarked with a teasing smile.

Hernan returned the mirthful grin. “Forgive me, I just like carrying you.”

“You don’t have to carry me to show how strong you are.”

“And if I told you that wasn’t the reason why I like holding you?”

Red eyes lost their mirth for only a moment before the corner of his lips upturned into a wry smirk.

“There’s more than one reason?”

Hernan felt the urge to kiss away that wry grin. He wanted to kiss that smart mouth that dared to test him, but even as he found himself leaning closer to Kirk, that pit in his stomach twisted. He couldn’t. He couldn’t and yet he felt his being quake in want.

His hands balled tightly, causing him to feel the band around his finger. The war was over. It was a time of peace, so if he could not find himself with Kirk now, then when could he?

He turned his head so his lips hovered over Kirk’s ear. “I only have one reason.”

His fingers found Kirk’s. The cold fingers twitched at first, startled but Hernan took them nonetheless, and Kirk didn’t move to pull away from the light hold.

Rather those red eyes looked dazed when Hernan pulled back. He raised the cold hand so his lips could press a soft kiss across his knuckles.

It wasn’t friendly. It wasn’t something a friend would do, and Hernan hoped Kirk understood he didn’t wish to simply be his friend anymore. He thought he could. He thought he could hide his feelings, but as he pressed his lips against the cool skin, he felt the knot in the pit of his stomach unfurl. It was never a twist of guilt, but rather it was the aching of never knowing whether Kirk could feel the same.

But when Hernan raised his gaze to meet red, Kirk looked away. Perhaps he was mistaken. With a heavy heart, he let go of Kirk’s hand and forced a smile.

“Good night, Kirk.”

Kirk nodded, but wouldn’t meet his gaze.

 _‘I see.’_ Hernan’s thumb pressed against the ring around his finger. _‘The time is not now… perhaps there never was one.’_

He turned down the hall, and Kirk did not follow.


	11. Chapter 11

Hernan knew he shouldn’t have done it. He shouldn’t have rushed it. Perhaps it was due to having won the battle, the prospects of peace that blinded him from reason. Perhaps it was seeing Steve finally do what Hernan thought he never would that spurred him to act.

No matter the reason, he was wrong. He was mistaken.

He washed the blood, dirt, and weeks of sweat from his body. It had been some time since he had found a river to take a dip in, much less soap to scrub between his toes. Taking a bucket of water, he dumped it over his head. The cold water solidified the rude awakening.

Once he felt like he had removed all the layers of grime from his skin, he slowly lowered himself into a copper tub filled with water he had heated himself to be boiling hot. It was perfect. He planned to soak for hours with his self-deprecating thoughts, and hopefully by the end of it, be rid of one more layer of shame.

Though even when he closed his eyes, all he could see were those red eyes staring back at him –shocked by what Hernan had done.

Hernan really should have known better. Wasn’t it Kirk’s friend… what was his name? Will, who had claimed if Kirk were not so ill, he would have been married? That was quite possibly true. Perhaps Kirk was mortified to have Hernan, a man – or rather male in most regards – touch him in such a way.

He most likely found it sinful – Hernan an offense to his true God.

The door opened. Hernan must have imagined it, but when he opened his eyes, there was Kirk standing before him.

He definitely fell asleep in the tub again.

Pale hands reached up to unclasp the dark cloak and let the heavy material pool at his feet. Yes, Hernan would definitely dream this. He had since the first night he had seen Kirk shoulder off his dark cloak. He had dreamed of those long shapely legs, and the flat of his stomach. He memorized the curves of his pronounced collarbones, and the shape of his shoulders.

Everything about the Kirk who stood before him, was something Hernan had dreamed of. Even Kirk’s pale skin glistening like gold against the flickering light of the fireplace was something only the deepest, darkest corners of his mind could produce.

Wordlessly, Kirk stepped into the tub, and Hernan moved his feet to make room for him. He lowered himself, and Hernan felt the water level rise. He felt pale feet sliding against his legs like cold water, waking him from something that was not a dream at all.

Kirk must have noticed his moment of realization for a shy smile curled the corner of lips Hernan had only dreamed of kissing. As if to solidify his existence, this moment Hernan found himself in, Kirk shifted forward to lie between Hernan’s legs.

The pale tip of his nose nearly brushed against Hernan’s, and red eyes had found his in a way that clearly said, _‘This is real’_.

“Kirk…”

Hernan’s words were cut off by cool lips pressed against his. However, if he were truly honest, he had no words. He could think of nothing to say, but Kirk. Nothing to think but Kirk.

Kirk.

Kirk who was kissing him. Kirk who was touching him. Kirk, whose cold fingers caressed his sides, and outlined the bones of the ribs his heart pounded against.

Kirk pulled back. His breath ghosted over his just-kissed lips before he leaned back further with questioning red eyes.

“Hernan?”

Like a spark to gunpowder, something ignited in the chambers of Hernan’s very being. His hands came to grasp either side of Kirk’s face and drew him closer until his lips were pressed against his once more.

His thumbs ran along the edges of his cheekbones as Kirk seemed to press closer to the touch. His body aligned with Hernan’s, wanting to feel every curve, every crook of his body.

With his lips against his, Hernan could feel the corners of Kirk’s lips upturn into a smile. His hand that had outlined his ribs slid up and around his neck to tug at the ends of his dark hair. The tug drew a pleasant hum from Hernan.

When Hernan pulled back, Kirk’s smile remained. It was a warm quirk of lips Hernan wanted to kiss over and over again. Instead, his hands that had cradled either side of Kirk’s face, further ran over the features he loved. Kirk closed his eyes at the feeling of it. He leaned closer into Hernan’s touch, warmed by the palm against his cheek.

Hernan lightly outlined Kirk’s dark brow by the press of his thumb, along with the small distance between. He wondered how many kisses he could fit between his furrowed brows. How many kisses long were his sharp cheekbones, his forehead, the underside of his jaw?

“Count for me,” Hernan requested.

Those dark brows furrowed questioningly, only to suddenly rise at the press of lips between them.

 A huff of a laugh escaped him, but as instructed, Kirk counted. “One.”

Kirk counted the kisses Hernan placed across his face. When Hernan reached his chin, Kirk leaned up and went on his knees so when he opened his eyes, he was looking down at Hernan who smiled back at him.

Hernan reached up to place a chaste kiss upon the last place Kirk had yet to count: his lips.

“Thirty-one.”

“Interesting.” Hernan hummed thoughtfully as his hands ran along the pale thighs which straddled his hips. “The expanse of your face is thirty-one kisses. The crease between your brows is two kisses-long, your cheekbone three, the underside of your jaw eight, your—”

Kirk was swift to cover Hernan’s words with his hand over his offending mouth. His thirty-one kisses worth of features flushed red. Hernan couldn’t help the chuckle that rumbled in his chest at the sight of it, before he moved to kiss the palm Kirk was so willing to offer him.

Kirk removed his hand, allowing Hernan to count, “Thirty-two.”

Kirk’s mouth opened only to shut a moment later when no sounds was produced. Speechless. Hernan’s smile widened. He took the hand of the palm he had just kissed. His fingers intertwined with Kirk’s, and he raised their combined hands up so he could press another kiss to the back of Kirk’s hand.

“I have so much more of you to map out.”

“Even if you are not the first?” Kirk’s voice was just above a whisper, but Hernan heard him all the same. Those red eyes were averted from him, and the hand Kirk had wrapped around his neck pulled away.

Hernan was quick to catch the retreating hand. Like the first, he wove his fingers between Kirk’s, and with both of Kirk’s hands in his, he brought them to his lips to kiss the back of them.

“Thirty-four… Thirty-five…Thirty-six…”

“Hernan.”

Hernan glanced up to see Kirk was looking at him again, those red eyes reluctantly hopeful. “Whether I am your first, last, or anything in between, my desire for you is immeasurable.”

Kirk looked as if he wanted to refute Hernan’s claim, but the words never came. His lips were pressed thinly, yet his hands remained in Hernan’s hold. He didn’t move to pull them away.

“The only number I care about is the number of times you will let me kiss you. If you wish me to stop, I will.”

 “I didn’t wish for that.”

Hernan looked at Kirk surprised by the familiar words thrown at him before he laughed. “So, I can only kiss you two-thousand times?”

“There were five-thousand stars that night,” Kirk corrected him. The upturning of his lips was slow to return, but it did. Hernan hoped that meant Kirk believed him. He hoped Kirk trusted him, but as to show that he would not take advantage of him, Hernan leaned closer to Kirk. His nose nearly brushed against his, but he remained just out of reach.

He waited for Kirk to say, _‘yes’_. He waited for Kirk to meet him half way. He waited for Kirk.

Kirk was in control, he always was. Hernan would not do anything if Kirk did not wish it. Although Hernan desired him so, he desired more than just the feeling of Kirk’s cool skin pressed against his. He wanted those red eyes to look at him – he wanted those lips upturned in a smile he could not kiss away. He wanted Kirk in his life, beside him always.

 _‘Please.’_ Hernan wanted to say. _‘Stay with me.’_

Kirk closed the distance between them.

It was a chaste press of lips, a simple touch, a simple yes, but it was all Hernan needed. He let go of Kirk’s hands in favor of wrapping them around Kirk’s waist and pulled him closer so that he was flush against his body.

He could feel the rushing of the beating of his heart to a rhythm akin to his own. By the broadening of Kirk’s smile, perhaps he had noticed it too.

As Hernan’s fingers traced over the drops of water that beaded across the back of Kirk’s pale shoulder blades, Hernan came to kiss the tip of Kirk’s shoulder. He counted, _‘one’_ , until he came to the crook of Kirk’s neck. _‘Six.’_

“Are you still counting?”

Hernan hummed in answer. “I wasn’t lying. I fully intend to survey you entirely.”

A flush of color returned to Kirk’s pale features, but he didn’t move away from Hernan this time. He instead leaned into his touch while his hands crossed the expanse of Hernan’s broad chest. The feeling made Hernan breathe deeply.

He bent his knees, causing Kirk to slide closer to him. His red eyes widened in surprise.

“Forgive me… you should probably go,” Hernan replied with an incriminating smile of yes, he was a little aroused, and no he was not sorry for it.

Red eyes peered through the water and in between their bodies. Hernan didn’t move to cover himself. It wasn’t because he was confident or wanted to show off in anyway. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he remained still as Kirk looked down at him.

Then finally, after a moment of not doing anything, nor saying anything, Kirk blinked.

“Would you like me to…?”

Hernan swallowed. “You don’t have to.”

Kirk’s smiled returned as he leaned closer. “That’s not what I asked. What do you want me to do, Hernan?”

Hernan was taken back. Never did he ever think such a phrase would slip past those lips. He was usually the initiator, but there was Kirk, who had crawled into the tub of his own violation – kissed him, and now asking him what he wanted.

He wanted Kirk. He wanted him more than he thought possible.

The way he looked must have belied his desire for Kirk had leaned closer to kiss him once again, and cool fingers slipped between their bodies to wrap around Hernan’s cock.

Hernan gripped the sides of the tub and ground his heels at the slow draw of Kirk’s grip.

Kirk’s smiled widened and Hernan leaned up to kiss his smirk. Even with a press of lips, Kirk’s smile didn’t deter. So Hernan caught Kirk’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugged. Kirk’s grip around him tightened and his lips parted.

Hernan kissed him again, but this time he came to taste old cooper on his tongue, and feel the sides of pointed fangs.

Kirk came to meet him, boldly pushing back so he could taste him in turn. His fingers were cool wrapped around him, but his tongue warm when it slid against his. A low sound came from Kirk as something else came to poke at Hernan to his amusement.

Krik was aroused too.

“Let me.” Hernan shifted his hips so that Kirk’s member aligned with his. With his warm hand, he came to wrap around them both and thrust up.

Kirk gasped in his ear.

“Okay?” Hernan asked.

Kirk only nodded before placing his head against Hernan’s shoulder. He shifted his grip so that he too held them both.

Hernan’s smile broadened at the reaction. He gave another thrust of his hips upwards, though this time with enough force for Kirk to bounce from his lap. A surprised sound escaped him as a pale hand gripped the side of the tub for balance.

The water around them sloshed, and the sound of it made Hernan’s blood rush. He moved again, causing the tides to rise with him. Kirk’s hips in turn rocked back down. His hips were narrow, but lithe as Hernan’s free hand came to frame one. His thumb ran along the curve of the bone before coming to circle further back to grab at an ample cheek of Kirk’s ass.

Kirk laughed. “You fail in subtlety.”

“I did not know I was supposed to be subtle now.” Hernan murmured back against pale skin for his lips already sought to claim the crook of Kirk’s neck.

“I do not refer to now.” Kirk’s hips shifted down with a force that made Hernan’s breath catch. “I refer to the times when it would be just you and me, under the coolness of night, your gaze towards my backside was none too subtle.”

“Can you fault me?”

The corner of Kirk’s lips upturned in a wry grin Hernan loved. “Yes, I entirely blame you.”

Hernan’s hips thrust up, as his lips caught the sound that threatened to bubble over. With each movement of his hips, Kirk matched him. Hernan could feel Kirk’s cock swell beside his, as something warm leaked from the head. The rough pad of his thumb came to run over it, and Kirk’s breath hitched.

“You do not play fair.”

“I only seek to find you pleasure.” Hernan’s grip around them both tightened.

“I want to find it with you.” Kirk moved to shift his hips down as Hernan’s jaw clenched. Even so, Hernan could see the shaking of Kirk’s shoulders, as well as feel the trembling of his thighs on either side of him. He was close.

Hernan grinned. He reached up to free Kirk’s bottom lip from his bite before coming to cover it with his own lips.

“Come for me,” Hernan whispered softly against Kirk’s lips, and with a few more thrusts, Hernan felt a cloud of warmth around his hand as Kirk came between their bodies in the water. Hernan’s hand pumped a few more times, letting Kirk ride out his climax until a pale hand came to stop him.

Kirk’s head rested against his shoulder as he breathed deeply in attempt to catch his breath. Still his heart thrummed in his chest, and his features flushed with color.

He was lovely still. Hernan came to rub gentle circles across Kirk’s lower back as he waited patiently for Kirk to recover.

“You didn’t find release.”

“Do not worry about me.”

Kirk raised his head with a hard look in his eyes. “I wish to bring you pleasure too.”

“You already do,” Hernan replied. “You being here with me, in my arms, brings me great pleasure.”

“You know what pleasure I speak of.”

 Kirk leaned in to kiss him, silencing whatever protest Hernan could possibly come up with. He shifted in his hold, placing his full weight on his knees as he reached behind him.

Hernan caught Kirk’s wrist. “If you wish to do that, then I have something better than water to ease the way.”

Kirk rose a questioning dark brow. “I’m afraid to ask why you would have such a thing.”

“I do not bring guests here, but it does not hurt to be prepared.”

“I see.” Kirk nodded, although Hernan admitting he had it for bed partners who were not necessarily him, didn’t seem to deter Kirk. Rather Kirk came to stand from the tub, water dripping from his pale body.

Hernan followed every drop that glistened across his skin, and cascaded down the small of his back like glass beads. Kirk looked over his shoulder. His red eyes caught his in question of why Hernan had yet to follow.

Hernan needed no further prompting. He stood from the now cool bath, and moved to grab the large cloth he had set aside to dry himself. Although instead of wrapping it around his body, he draped it over Kirk’s shoulders.

His arms encircled him, and he simply held him. He didn’t embrace him as a brother in arms nor a friend through troubling times, but as someone he held great affection and love for during times of peace. He held him knowing this was not simply a dream. He held him knowing Kirk had felt the same for Kirk moved to return the embrace.

“You are truly a fool,” Kirk said teasingly, although it was followed by a small self-deprecating laugh.

“For?”

“For embracing me.” Kirk buried his features in Hernan’s shoulder so he could not see them, but the way Kirk held him was with the intent of never letting go. “I thought surely when you realized my feelings were not pure, you would cast me aside. But instead you surprised me that you could feel such affection towards me.”

“So logically you climbed into my tub.”

Hernan could see the tip of Kirk’s ears flush. “Forgive my boldness, but it would seem not only do you fail in subtlety, but you also do not discern subtlety yourself.”

“There is nothing to forgive. I like your boldness. Rather I’m sorry for my slow mind.”

Kirk raised his head to return Hernan’s smile. “You’re forgiven.”

Hernan found himself laughing at the cheeky remark before leaning in to kiss Kirk’s sly smirk. Slowly they found themselves in Hernan’s bed chambers in which Hernan carefully lowered Kirk down across the sheets.

“Shouldn’t we dry off?” Kirk broke the kiss only for Hernan to chase the retreating lips. “We’ll… get the sheets… wet.”

“I don’t care.” Hernan mumbled back between kisses. “The sheets will be ruined in more ways than one.”

Kirk paused for a moment at Hernan’s wording before he lightly shook his head. Nonetheless, the damp cloth that separated their bodies fell to the side as Kirk propped himself further up the bed. Hernan grabbed the promised vial from the drawer, and placed it on the nightstand where Kirk could see it.

Kirk didn’t seem to pay much heed to it. He didn’t have much time to for Hernan came to grip the underside of his knees to pull him back towards the edge of the bed. He knees were placed over Hernan’s shoulders for Hernan himself was on his knees.

He pressed a gentle kiss to Kirk’s inner thigh while his warm hands moved to cradle narrow hips and cross the expanse of Kirk’s flat stomach yet feel the muscles underneath. He felt it tremble beneath his fingertips, and the muscles jump when Hernan came to lick the underside of his cock.

He licked from the base to the tip, letting his saliva drip. He felt the mattress shift, and cool fingers coming to run through his dark hair. They didn’t push him away, nor did they guide him to move. Rather they clenched at his short strands when he sucked upon the tip.

Hernan heard a low sound escape Kirk as he was fully aroused once more. He continued to take more of Kirk slowly. His one hand framed his hip while the other came to encircle the base of his cock to reach the places his mouth had not.

Kirk’s hips shook.

“H-Hernan.” Kirk inhaled sharply, yet he could feel the desperation from the grip of his fingers. He wanted to touch him too. He wanted Hernan to find pleasure as well. So Hernan blindly reached for the vial, and with one hand, removed the lid to generously pour the contents upon his fingers.

Kirk’s legs drew up at the feeling of Hernan’s fingers reaching even lower.

Hernan took his time. He simply coated the area, and gently prodded with his thumb but never breached. Meanwhile his lips were still wrapped around Kirk’s cock. His tongue encircled the head, tasting the saltiness of Kirk’s precum before he lowered himself further.

As he lowered himself, he gently slipped in one finger and curled it upward.

“Hernan…” With his grip upon Hernan’s dark hair, Kirk pulled Hernan away. He looked up at Kirk, ready to remove himself entirely only for cool hands to cup either side of his face, and pulling him closer. Hernan obeyed.

He followed Kirk’s guiding hands so that he hovered over him. His arms were propped up on either side of Kirk as Kirk’s legs came to hold him in place. Hernan looked down at the flushed features and the redness of Kirk’s eyes now but a thin ring.

“Too much?” Hernan asked, although mirth was evident in his blue eyes.

Kirk didn’t look half as pleased but nodded all the same.

“Shall I stop?”

Kirk shook his head. “No, just… slow.”

Hernan nodded in understanding. After already coming the first time, Kirk was most likely feeling sensitive, so Hernan went even slower. He reached down for the vial once more, and poured another generous helping of oil. With his gaze upon Kirk’s features, he inserted one finger.

“Okay?”

“Yes,” Kirk confirmed, and drew his knees up to give Hernan more room. His free hand came to encircle Kirk’s knee. He gently squeezed before coming to caress his thigh as he slowly worked his finger until he felt no resistance.

He carefully inserted a second, and Kirk’s head rolled back. His back arched, and his hands fisted in the sheets beneath him. Hernan’s hand stilled. He leaned closer to press gentle kisses along Kirk’s shoulders, collar, and chest.

Kirk breathed deeply, and after a moment, Hernan felt him slowly unclench around his fingers. He was met with little resistance, but the sound Kirk made was that of pleasure. Hernan slipped in a third, and Kirk’s response was instantaneous. His knee jerked, and his toes curled in time with the bending of the fingers within him. Hernan moved them – spread them apart as he tightened his grip around Kirk’s knee.

When Hernan began to thrust, Kirk in turn ground his hips down to take him in further. A sound unlike him escaped, and Hernan ached to be inside him. His fingers came to brush against something inside him, causing Kirk to cry out.

“E-enough!” Kirk begged, and Hernan was too weak to disagree. Kirk could have proclaimed anything at that moment, and Hernan would not have the will to say _‘no’_.

He swiftly removed his fingers, and the sound Kirk made at the loss made Hernan’s blood boil. He wanted him. He craved him so much he felt his very being quake in want.

Kirk took advantage of Hernan’s moment of weakness. His legs came to wrap around Hernan, and with one swift move, Hernan found his back pressed against the sheets as Kirk’s red gaze towered over him.

Hernan was breathless.

“Are you okay?” Kirk asked him, although he too breathed deeply

“Yes.” Hernan breathed out. He caressed the pale thighs on either side of him. “Yes.”

Yes, he was okay. He was more than okay. He wanted this. He wanted Kirk. The way the corner of Kirk’s lips upturned in a small smile made it seem as if Kirk knew. But Hernan was no longer hiding it. He was no longing concealing his desire for him.

Kirk leaned down to kiss him. Hernan returned the kiss, even as he felt his breath catch at cool fingers wrapping around him. His hips stilled as Kirk positioned himself, and slowly, he felt warmth envelope him.

His head rolled back, and Kirk’s breath was hot against the hollow of his neck. Kirk slipped further, and Hernan’s hands were there to catch him. They cradled his hips and rubbed soothingly along the curve.

His hands traveled farther up the expanse of Kirk’s stomach, the sides of his waist, until he made to sit up where his hands rested on the small of Kirk’s back. The change of position made Kirk place further weight on his knees, but Hernan was there to hold him.

He didn’t rush him although his hips trembled in need. Rather he waited patiently, pressing light kisses along Kirk’s chest when his lips came across a nipple. Kirk inhaled sharply. Were they sensitive?

Hernan couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him at the discovery of it. He came to kiss Kirk’s nipple again as his other hand gently pressed against the other. Kirk leaned closer into the touch. His cool fingers ran through Hernan’s dark hair, tugging lightly when he felt the edges of Hernan’s teeth.

He tugged back. Hernan’s blue eyes caught his red gaze, and Hernan could see, Kirk was at his limit. Hernan moved. His knees came up as he gave an upward thrust. Kirk’s hand steadied himself upon Hernan’s thigh, and a few thrusts later, Kirk ground his hips back down.

Hernan moved and Kirk followed, each time feeling himself buried deeper. When Hernan thrust up, Kirk would meet him. They formed a steady rhythm that made Hernan’s blood rush. He felt warmth pool at his center, kindled by the small gasps that passed Kirk’s lips or a low moan against his ear.

Kirk held him close all the while. His arm encircled his neck as his fingers dug into his thigh whenever he gave a particularly hard push. A breathless laugh would tumble from him, and Hernan would lean forward to kiss the upward curves of his lips.

“Hernan.” Kirk breathed softly across his lips. Hernan felt warmed by the sound of his name.

“Kirk.” Hernan called back. “Hold on.”

With a secure arm around his back, Hernan flipped their positions, so that Kirk’s back hit the sheets. Red eyes looked at him surprised, but allowed Hernan to move him in any direction he wished. His thigh rested across Hernan’s hip as his other knee came to bend over his tanned shoulder. Warm hands held the leg in place before Hernan entered him again.

A breathless cry escaped Kirk at the new angle while his back arched off the bed in a lovely curve.

 _‘Beautiful.’_ Hernan tightened his grip around Kirk’s knee, and thrust his hips forward once more. The way Kirk clenched around him was maddening, but what Hernan loved most about the position was how he could get a better view of Kirk’s flushed features.

His dark brows were furrowed, and the point of his fangs scraped across swollen lips. Strands of dark hair stuck to his forehead, his neck, his cheek which Hernan brushed back. For once the skin felt warm, no longer cool to the touch as sweat beaded across his body.

The leg beside him jerked, and Kirk let go of the sheets in favor of clutching the hand that was around his hip.

“Good?” Hernan asked. He hit the spot again, and Kirk clenched around him tightly. He removed his hand from Kirk’s hip in favor of lacing their fingers together. Kirk squeezed it fiercely. If Hernan were a normal man, his hand might have broken with the strength Kirk used every time Hernan slammed into a certain spot inside him.

“Y-yes…good,” Kirk answered him, even if delayed. He tried to drive back with every push, but his knees trembled weak, and the rhythm lost its consistency. Hernan was close. He was so very close.

Even so, he didn’t forget about Kirk’s pleasure as well. He let the leg beside him slide off his shoulder in favor of slipping his hand between their heated bodies. His fingers wrapped around Kirk’s cock, and stroked him in time with his thrusts.

A chocked off cry fell from Kirk’s lips as Hernan moved to cover them.

“Let go.” Hernan pressed the words against the corner of his lips. “I’ve got you.”

A few thrusts later, and Kirk came with a cry. Warmth spilled over his fingers as Hernan continued to stroke him through his high. Meanwhile, his jaw clenched, and his eyes closed at the feeling of Kirk tightening around him.

“Hernan…” Kirk called out to him. Hernan let go. He felt himself release, letting go of everything he had built up. His worries, his fears, his desire he never thought possible. He allowed it to slip through his fingers but then there was Kirk’s hand in his, anchoring him to where he was now. He was here in Kirk’s arms.

Kirk was there to catch him when his arms started to give way. He held Hernan close with a soft upward curl of his lips.

“Hernan.” he repeated. He pressed a light kiss to the sweat of his brow. “Hernan.”

Hernan reached up to kiss him. “Stay with me.”

Kirk’s weary smile widened. “I’m right here.”


	12. Chapter 12

Ever since that night, Hernan couldn’t stop wanting to touch Kirk. A hand against his cheek, a kiss to the back of his shoulder, or even just simply leaning against him as they watched fireflies glow, they were always connected in some way.

Hernan wasn’t always the one to initiate the touch either. Kirk had surprised him one morning when cool arms came to wrap around his waist from behind. Kirk would rest his head against the back of his shoulder with an easy smile across weary features.

His bat was up earlier than usual.

“Where do you get all your eggs?” Kirk looked down at the boiling pot amazed.

“From town. I’m quite popular among the farmers.”

“I’m sure.” Kirk lightly scoffed. Even so, he watched as Hernan ate all 35 eggs and 53 rolls of bread with slices of ham. He’s never seen someone eat so much.

When Hernan cleaned up after himself, he was surprised once more by the cool arms that encircled him and even more surprised by the hands that patted his stomach.

“Where does it all go?”

Hernan looked down at the hands that ran over his stomach. Not a bump, not a swell to indicate he ate more than his fill. Nothing had changed.

Hernan shrugged. “I work it off.”

Kirk laughed and Hernan couldn’t help but smile at the sound of it. He turned in Kirk’s hold to press a kiss against full cheeks.

At night they would weave through the trees like children on a chase, before stopping at the lake in which they slowed their steps. They took in the cool night breeze, and watched the clear water ripple beneath skipping stones.

“It’s a flick of the wrist,” Hernan explained as he picked up a smooth stone to hand it to Kirk.

“Just a flick of the wrist?” Kirk took the stone. His thumb ran over the smooth surface even as he allowed Hernan to take his hand in his.

“Flick and let go.” Hernan’s arm wrapped around Kirk as he went through the motion.

“Okay.” Kirk nodded. Hernan stepped back to give Kirk space. With a small swing and a short flick of the wrist, Kirk skipped the stone four paces before it sunk to the bottom.

Kirk smirked. “Just a flick of the wrist, huh?”

“I’ve been deceived.” Hernan feigned surprise earning a small laugh from Kirk.

“You assume too much, although I wouldn’t have minded if you just said you wanted to hold me.”

“I’ve been deceived and caught.”

Kirk laughed once more, although this time, Hernan went to capture his laughter with a kiss.

“Tis true; you’ve seen right through me. I simply wish to hold you,” Hernan conceded with a smile of his own.

The corners of Kirk’s lips curled. “Even after you’ve held me last night, and the night before that, and that morning—”

“Yes,” Hernan interjected with another press of lips. “I am but a starving man.”

“But you had thirty-five eggs this mornin—”

Kirk was cut off again, but he didn’t protest. He didn’t push Hernan away. Instead his cool fingers came to tug Hernan closer to him even as he felt himself being lowered upon the grass.

A laugh bubbled from him at the eagerness Hernan had to rid him of his clothes. His breath hitched at the first breach of fingers inside him. The first and second were a rushed affair, but the third was slow and deliberate.

Hernan drew what he could from Kirk, enjoying the small faces he made behind flushed features. When he entered him, he felt his arms tremble, and his knees weak at the tightness which enclosed around him and yet the incredible warmth which surrounded him.

Pale legs held him close as cool fingers ran down his sides. Although Hernan was quick to enter him, the rocking of his hips was slow. He took his time in simply savoring the feeling of their bodies pressed together.

He listened to the rapid beating of Kirk’s heart, his sighs, his gasps, the small bits of laughter that would tumble from his lips. He watched the blush of color slowly run up pale skin, coloring his features, his neck, and the tips of his shoulders. The way the moon beams glowed across the curve of his back took Hernan’s breath away.

“Beautiful,” Hernan whispered across Kirk’s temple.

When Hernan would carry Kirk back to the manor, he would lie him across the bed and whisper sweet nothings in his ear as he fell asleep. However, the words weren’t without meaning to Hernan. He meant every declaration no matter how silly some sounded.

Even when he whispered, “I love you, Kirk.” He meant it. He felt every fiber of his being filled with only love. Perhaps it was the summer fever. Perhaps it was nonsense, folly to proclaim such things, but Hernan was tired of questioning what was right. He only said what he knew, and he knew he wanted Kirk to be with him.

Kirk turned to face him. His red eyes blinked surprise, but a warm smile soon curled the corners of his lips.

 _‘Fool.’_ Hernan could imagine Kirk saying, but Kirk didn’t say anything at all. Instead he just leaned in to kiss him, and that was enough for Hernan. He did not rush to seek further. Simply having Kirk in his hold was enough for him.

As the forest seemed to come alive with color, and the air colder than it once was, the final of the peace treaties were being drawn. Hernan was summoned by Waller to attend the meeting, with a note to be dressed accordingly.

Hernan scoffed. He hated formal clothing.

He begrudgingly got dressed, and cool fingers were there to button the silver clasps. Kirk helped slowly roll up his stockings with a kiss to his inner thigh. It drew a small smile for Hernan as he finished getting dressed.

“I shouldn’t be long” Hernan promised.

“I should hope not.” Kirk returned with a smile that said he was only teasing.

“Come back soon, I’ll be waiting.” Kirk whispered in his ear.

Hernan swallowed as Kirk placed Hernan’s tricorn hat atop of his head.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wear the wig?”

Hernan gave it one look before shaking his head. “I’m quite sure.”

“Not even for the ball?”

“Kirk.” Hernan came to take the wig from Kirk’s hands. “I’ll wear it once for you.”

He placed the wig on over his short hair. The hair was white with tight rolls on the sides of his temple and a small tail in the back. Red eyes looked at him critically for a moment before Kirk laughed.

“I think you look quite handsome.”

“Very funny.” Hernan came to kiss away the cheeky smile.

 

* * *

 

 “With a head like that, you look like a stable boy in men’s clothing.”

“You’re as elegant as ever, Amanda.” Hernan bowed at her presence, not caring that he wasn’t properly dressed for the occasion. He wore a clean uniform with his buttons polished to shine under the candle light. The only thing truly out of sorts was an absence of a wig which Hernan refused to wear. Waller did not push the matter further.

“I do not see why I’m needed here.” Hernan straightened himself and came to stand behind her.

“You are here should something arise.”

“Such as?”

“You know men.” Waller sighed. “They have such terrible tempers.”

Hernan let a small laugh escape him, but was quick to compose himself when the doors opened.

“His Majesty, The King of Gotham and Duke of Kane, King Hamilton II.”

A stout man with silver whiskers of a mustache and beard strutted into the room. His crown looked larger than he was, but of course Hernan’s features remained unyielding.

“His Majesty, the King of Thanagar and Rann, King Paran I.”

The old man to follow Hamilton had a willowy frame. His years showed by the wrinkles around his eyes, but no wisdom shone through the grey iris.

“His majesty, the Emperor of the Oa Empire, Emperor Sodam.”

Hernan felt the room still when the man entered. He was tall in stature, with broad shoulders, and an air to him that commanded attention. His green eyes regarded Hernan first, before he averted his gaze to the Queen.

“My dear, it is good to see you in good health. Shall we begin?” He immediately took over despite it not being his court, but Amanda didn’t fight back. She merely took his lead and sat down at the table surrounded by rulers of much larger nations.

Hernan briefly wondered if this was why she had him here – to protect her should one of these men decide to do what their armies could not.

“Should we begin with the duration of peace between our nations?” the Emperor suggested with a smile akin to a lion’s.

“Yes,” said the King of Gotham, “What a fine suggest—”

“We have agreed for it to be twenty years,” Waller interjected. “Unless you three have changed your minds, I see no reason to even discuss peace durations.”

The three men looked amongst each other for a moment, before the Emperor conceded rather reluctantly. “I suppose not.”

“Good, then I suggest we should start at what will most certainly be the most contentious of the treaty. However, if we cannot even discuss that, then everything discussed prior would have been for naught.”

“Very well.”

“Let us start with reparations.” Amanda decided.

“We believe from the damages we have done to your borders, ten million should suffice.” Paran offered. Waller would not have it.

“Thirty million – ten from each of you.”

“Are you mad?” King Hamilton’s face flamed red. “We did not nearly do so much as to cost thirty million.”

“You attacked my borders for four years, and besieged my nation from foreign trade. I will need time to repair my trade relations, which you should know costs money. Thirty million should suffice.”

“What do you, a woman, know about foreign trade?”

Hernan’s jaw clenched.

“I may be a woman, but I am foremost a ruler of a nation who has thwarted three of you from her borders for four years – something a man alone has yet to do. Ten million from each of you is a generous offer.”

“She is right.” the Emperor cut in before Hamilton could. “I’m surprised you did not ask thirty from each of us.”

“If I did, you would never pay it.” Waller quipped which earned a small smile from the Emperor, and a spark in his green eyes Hernan was all too familiar with.

He nearly laughed. _‘Good luck.’_

She did not need him at all. Perhaps she had Hernan there to show off or to entertain him. Perhaps it was both. Regardless, Hernan stayed rooted to the spot until a final treaty was forged and signed by all four leaders.

The war was officially over.

Music filled the ballroom as the aristocrats drank merry and danced in celebration. Hernan was stopped by other military officials, and congratulated by various ladies of the court.

They hid their smiles behind ornate fans, but Hernan didn’t need to see their lips for their eyes said more than enough. Usually he enjoyed regaling the ladies of his exaggerated war battles, but that night he had no interest. He merely wanted to get back to Kirk who waited for him.

“Excuse me, ladies.” Hernan moved past them despite their small protests. He made his way through the twirling skirts and various men with redden drunk cheeks.

“You look quite lovely.”

Bekka turned at the sound of Hernan. Her gown was rose-pink, with bows of white down the center of her bodice. The way they layered upon each other looked like flowers. The skirt of the dress had ruffled layers of tulle and lace which overlapped looked like vines with leaves.

She smiled. “And you… you really should dress properly, Hernan.”

“I thought I looked nice.” Hernan straightened his satin waist coat for further emphasis.

“You look smitten.” Bekka smirked. “Like a cat before spilled milk. Tell me you finally did something about Kirk.”

“Haven’t we exhausted that topic enough?” 

“I’ll take your avoidance as a _‘yes’_ , and I shall say I’m happy for you and leave it at that.”

Hernan genuinely returned the smile. “Tell me, have you decided on a date yet?”

“No, Steve is still trying to speak it over with his parents.”

“They do not approve?”

“I’m afraid not, but it was inevitable. I come with nothing but war honors.”

“Shouldn’t that be enough?”

“Not for them.” Bekka sighed. “The worst case is, they disown Steve. Although we would still be fine with our rewards we receive for our service, I fear Steve will be beside himself with his parents casting him out as such.”

“He will have you. He will be fine.”

 “Thank you, I hope so,” she said. “Speaking of Steve, I should go to him. Stay out of trouble now.”

She offered him a departing bow of her head. Normally she would hug him, but in a setting such as this, she had more restraint than him. Hernan watched her weave through the crowd to Steve. He was dressed like Hernan in his military uniform. He was surprised Bekka had not done the same, but perhaps tonight she wanted to feel feminine as the fiancé to a captain.

“She’s quite a beauty. Friend of yours?”

Hernan bit his tongue. The compliment was most likely from an arrogant aristocrat. If they were in a camp, Hernan would have smacked the back of the man’s head. Instead, he turned to greet the stranger with a feigned smile.

“She is a friend, and you are?”

“How poor of me.” the man offered his gloved hand to Hernan. “I am Lord Moxon, son of Lew Moxon.”

Hernan felt his blood run cold.

Moxon.

Jeremy Moxon.

He lived. He was no longer missing. Kirk had not killed him, but then where had he been all this time? Why show up now? Hernan’s mind spun with so many questions he had been struggling to answer for months, and now, as one pivotal answer was revealed, Hernan was at a loss of words.

His hand was lax in Jeremy’s which the man seemed to notice by the small upward tugging of his lips.

“I seemed to have startled you, Lieutenant. Have you heard of me?”

With great difficulty, Hernan recomposed himself. “I heard you were missing.”

“Ah, yes, well I have been found fortunately,” Jeremy said. His seemingly saccharine smile disquieted Hernan.

When Hernan imagined Jeremy, well… he wasn’t quite sure how to picture him, but looking at him now, the young man had a handsome face. His light brown hair was tied back with a black ribbon at the nape of his neck. His coat was of a deep velvet red trimmed in gold braids, and his breeches dark with white stockings.

He looked no different from any other young lord in dress, but the way he carried himself made Hernan wonder if Kirk had seen a young prince in Moxon – a knight in shining armor as the fairy tales went.

“You know you are quite infamous in Gotham.” Jeremy’s smile lost some of its sweetness. “They say you are invincible.”

“I’ve merely been fighting my whole life.”

“Not alone though.” Hernan stilled as those once warm brown eyes looked dark beneath candle light. “How is Kirk?”

Before Hernan could question Moxon, much less throttle him across the floor, there was a large crash behind them. Shards of shattered glass cut through the cacophony of music as people screamed.

Hernan couldn’t discern what he saw. When he turned back to question Moxon, the man was gone.

_‘Mierda.’_

 Hernan grabbed the hilt of his sword as he pushed his way through the throng of people. Their screams grew louder when the large creature suddenly swooped down. Its claws tore through the silk, the velvet, and the flesh from their bones.

“Get down!” Hernan yelled at them.

They didn’t listen. They trampled over each other towards the exit, screaming, crying, and some even bleeding.

 _‘Enough.’_ Hernan thought. When the creature was close enough, he jumped up. His hand caught its claw causing a loud screech to cut through the room. Hernan grit his teeth. The sound was deafening. With his sword drawn, he swung himself with his point aimed at the belly of the creature.

The blade skidded across the pale skin, and the creature gave his claw a hard kick, sending Hernan crashing down. Luckily no one was beneath him to cushion his fall.

“Hernan!”

“I’m fine,” Hernan called back to Bekka who had rushed to his side. With the lace of her sleeve, she came to dab at the small cut he had across his face. The creature had cut through his skin. The only other person who was able to penetrate his scales was Kirk...

That couldn’t be. Hernan looked up at the black leathery wings and the dark fur. It wasn’t white – it wasn’t Kirk, but the face of the creature, it’s wings, it’s claws, were unmistakably bat-like. However, it wasn’t the size of a bat but the size of a person.

“Hernan!” Hernan heard Amanda yell at him. The creature was coming straight towards her. Its fangs were bared, and claws extended.

“Give me this.” Amanda pulled the sword from the King of Gotham’s scabbard. It was decorative with jewels imbedded around the hilt and blade, but it was all she had.

The creature screeched, causing the men behind her to scream, but Amanda swung the blade. The creature recoiled with a wounded cry.

Its wings caved into itself, scrambling across the polished floors as it bled red. Before Hernan could reach it, it launched itself out the broken window in which it had entered.

It fled.

The bat-like creature flew away.

Kirk. Moxon had asked about Kirk. Hernan needed to get to him. He moved towards the broken window when Waller called out to him again.

“Hernan, stay here! As your queen, I order you to stay,” she yelled, with the sword still clenched in her hands.

Hernan looked back at her. Her dark eyes were unyielding, but if she could cut through the creature with that blade, then he trusted Bekka could keep her safe. Better yet, Amanda was strong enough to protect herself.

“I’m sorry, Amanda.” Hernan leapt out the window.

He hit the ground running. He ran past the palace gardens, and easily leapt over the stone wall. Not caring for his jacket, nor if anyone should see, his wings sprouted from his back, and he took to the sky.

He did not know which direction the creature went. All he could think about was the way Jeremy had looked at him when he asked about Kirk – the way his eyes seemed to glimmer ominously under the chandeliers. He knew where Kirk was. He knew Kirk was with him.

He rushed home.

He struck the ground hard as the earth gave way beneath his feet, but he didn’t care. He froze before his manor. The front door was wide open, and inside was dark.

“Kirk!” Hernan ran inside.

Shattered porcelain crunched beneath his feet. Furniture was overturned, various objects littered the floor, and the floors themselves bore claw marks as if someone were dragged.

“Kirk!” Hernan yelled with greater agency than before. He tried to listen closely for any kind of sound, but the frantic beating of his heart was near deafening. The fact that he could not hear another beat beside his own drove him mad.

“Kirk!” Hernan ran outside, hoping that perhaps Kirk wasn’t inside. Perhaps he had escaped into the woods. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t hear him. Maybe that’s why the house had seemed so eerily still.

But the wind rustled the leaves, as small animals ran to steer clear of Hernan’s path. Still Hernan called for him, each call growing more desperate than the last.

“Kirk!”

A beat…

“Kirk!” Hernan rushed to the noise. He knew that beat. He knew that sound. It was a sound which lulled him to sleep at night. It was the sound he had memorized as if it were his very own.

There, in the underbrush, Hernan caught a patch of white.

“Kirk!” Hernan fell to his knees beside him. His face was bloodied and his hand came to cover his side which bled red.

“K-Kirk.” Hernan choked back a sob. He quickly took the remains of his jacket to swath the wounds he saw, but there was so many, and probably some he couldn’t even see for there was so much red – too much red.

“Hern…nan.”

“I’m here.” Hernan held Kirk in his arms. “I’m right here. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Kirk’s features were paler than Hernan had ever seen them. He had lost too much blood. Hernan needed to get him inside. He carefully lifted him up, earning a pained gasp.

“I’m sorry,” Hernan said as he began to make his way back through the forest. “I’m sorry.” _‘I shouldn’t have left you alone for so long. I should have been faster. I should have…’_

“Hernan...” Hernan looked down at the ghostly pale face. The thin lips weakly upturned in a small smile, but said nothing more. He didn’t need to. He was going to be okay. He trusted him, even if foolishly so.

“You’re going to be okay. I’m here now.” Hernan repeated.

Kirk’s smile remained. _‘Welcome back.’_

__


	13. Chapter 13

Hernan had made quick work of Kirk’s torn clothing. He cleaned the wounds and counted how many Kirk had. There were three lacerations to his side and by the spacing, Hernan guessed they were from claws.

He carefully sutured them and applied alcohol to the wound to keep the area disinfected. He then bandaged Kirk with clean cloth, and laid him down in his bed where he could properly rest. His breathing had slowed, and his heart rate was steady.

He was going to be okay. Even so, Hernan couldn’t help but worry. If there was one of those creatures at the ball, then there was most likely a second creature that had attacked Kirk at the same time. How many were there really, and how was Moxon involved?

Hernan was certain the creatures were Moxon’s but how Moxon got a hold of them remained a mystery.

All he could do now was wait. If Kirk made it through the night, then he would surely make a fully recovery.

Two days passed and Kirk remained breathing. His heart rate was slow, but he was still alive if not awake. Hernan had continued to take care of him. He cleaned his bandages when he started to bleed through, and cleaned the wounds to prevent infection.

By the third day, Hernan awoke to a banging on his door. He made his way down the stairs. By the sound of crunching beneath his feet, he remembered he had yet to clean up the mess that was made of his home.

Nonetheless, he opened the door.

“Hernan.”

Hernan didn’t have the heart to look surprised at the sight of Waller at his door step. She wore a dark cloak to cover her features, meaning she had come in secret.

Without waiting for permission, she pushed her way passed him.

“What happened here?” she lowered her hood as she surveyed the broken pieces scattering his floors.

“Ransacked,” Hernan replied.

“By one of those beasts?”

“It would seem so.”

Waller nodded her head and accepted it as fact before her dark eyes turned towards him livid. “Where have you been? Did you even chase after the creature?”

“No. I lost sight of them.”

“You lost sight of them?” Waller repeated incredulously. “I know you are hiding something from me Hernan. I’ve known for quite some time. From what I’ve been told, you’ve had a stranger accompany you during your missions recently. Is he the one you’re hiding?”

Hernan didn’t try to deny her, and she accepted his silence as an answer. “Where is he?”

When he did not answer, Waller made to move past him, but Hernan was swift to block her path. Her lips thinned.

“Hernan, let me through.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”

“As your Queen, I demand you to step aside.”

“The war is over, Amanda. You do not get to command me.”

“On the contrary. While you are in my lands, you are under my control. If you do not like it, then leave.”

“Perhaps I will,” Hernan replied. His gaze met hers unyielding.

He did not need to be here. He did not need to live in this house. What he did need was to make sure Kirk would be okay, and Waller discovering his existence was not part of that equation.

“Then what’s stopping you from leaving now?” Waller gave the place another look. “Do not underestimate me. It is not hard to conclude your home was attacked by a beast that could make such claw marks upon the floors. Whomever you are protecting up there, I assume is wounded which is why you haven’t left this place, despite the war being over.

“Furthermore, whoever is up there must have something to do with whoever unleashed those creatures for it should have been well known that you would be at the party than here, home. Now we can cooperate with each other to find the truth, or we can hinder each other from ever solving this conundrum.”

“Hernan…”

Hernan glanced up at the faint call of his name. Kirk was up. The fact made his heart jump, and yet Waller’s dark eyes were on him.

He would protect Kirk, he had promised himself he would. He almost failed to do so when he left him alone. He could not do that again.

“Follow me.” Hernan turned to walk up the stairs. He decided he would let Waller meet Kirk. She was most likely right, that Kirk knew more than he was letting on. However, if they were to fight the Moxons, or even all of Gotham, having Waller as an ally was better than an enemy.

He opened his door for Waller to walk through before shutting it softly behind him.

“Kirk.”

The man’s head turned slowly towards the two of them. Dark brows furrowed at the appearance of Waller, a stranger to him.

“Kirk, this is her Majesty, the Queen of Kandor.”

Red eyes widened in surprise. He made to sit up as to make himself presentable before the Queen, but Hernan was swift to stop him.

“Careful, you don’t want to irritate your sutures,” Hernan warned with a gentle hand on Kirk’s shoulder.

“Yes, please do not strain yourself,” Waller agreed. She pulled up a chair to sit beside the bed. There she could get a better look at Kirk.

His features were pale, but not as pale as before as his red eyes were clear, and the tips of his fangs just peeked past the bottom of his upper lip.

“Are you another dragon half-breed?” Waller asked.

Kirk gave a short huff of a laugh. “No, Your Highness, I’m afraid I am not so grand as Hernan.”

A small smile came to tug upon Hernan’s lips at Kirk’s words. He sat down on the bed beside him, being mindful of where Kirk’s legs were beneath the covers.

“I am a… vampire essentially,” Kirk answered. “It was an experiment gone wrong. I was dying from an incurable disease. My family owns an apothecary so medicine is a specialty of mine. I thought I could concoct a cure but instead it turned me into a monster.”

“You’re not a monster.” Hernan was swift to correct.

Kirk shook his head lightly but didn’t move to argue.

“I assume you were attacked by a bat creature a few nights ago.” Waller got to the point. “Would you happen to know who sent it?”

Kirk averted his gaze, not having the courage to look her in the eye nor Hernan’s when he confessed. “I do. I’m sorry, Hernan. I never thought it would come to this.”

Hernan didn’t know what to say. Some part of him had known already, but hearing it from Kirk himself… His hands balled into the sheets beside him. It wasn’t from betrayal or anger towards Kirk. It was to steel himself for the inevitable.

“I saw Jeremy Moxon at the ball.” Hernan looked over at Kirk who looked as if he had grown paler once again. “It was how I knew you were most likely in danger.”

Kirk averted his gaze from Hernan. Hernan could see he was thinking. His own hands bunched into the sheets and his lips curled back a little, revealing fangs. It was a habit Kirk did when he thought of something unpleasant. However, by the look in his red eyes, it was more than unpleasant. It was haunting.

“I… a little after my transformation, I was confronted by a young man. He fashioned himself as a scientist who wanted to help me. He promised to help me find a cure, and having no other place to go, I went with him.

“For years, I believed him. He sheltered me and hid me from the outside. I didn’t even know there was a war beyond his walls.” a wistful smile seemed to spread across his features only to fade a moment later. “It wasn’t until about a year ago when I discovered what he was using my blood for. He never intended to cure me. He wanted to make more of me, and it looks like he finally succeeded.”

“And what is in your blood?” Waller asked.

“I experimented with vampire bats.”

“So those creatures have the same blood as you?”

“Partially,” Kirk replied.

“They have his blood as well as their own.” Hernan was able to place the pieces together. “Lord Chill was buying our men, who were prisoners of war, for Moxon’s experiments. Those vampire bats were human before they changed. It would explain why they are so large.”

“Jeremy most likely added to the original serum as well, so they are different to what I am. They are stronger.”

“But perhaps they are weak to the same things as you.” from the confines of her cloak, Waller removed a small dagger. Hernan was quick to stand with a protective hold over Kirk.

“Hernan’s sword, made of iron, was not able to penetrate their skin. Is this the same for you?” Kirk nodded. “However, my sword made of silver was able to. May I test this?”

“You’re going to cut him?” Hernan looked livid, but Waller didn’t spare him a glance. Her dark eyes remained on Kirk who in turn outstretched his hand to her.

“Kirk, you don’t need to do this.”

“I do, Hernan. Jeremy… you don’t know him.” behind those red eyes was fear, something Hernan had not seen in Kirk since the night he fell from the sky. It made him fear what Jeremy could have done to Kirk for him to look such a way.

Kirk outstretched his hand once more to Waller, offering her his palm. She took the blade and tried to puncture his finger. The skin broke, and red came to bubble at the surface. Hernan was quick to take the hand and cover the finger with cloth to stop the bleeding. Kirk didn’t move to stop him.

“So it would seem we will have to fortify ourselves with silver. Do you know how many of these creatures Moxon might have?”

“No,” Kirk said. “But the number of people he experimented on… there could be a whole army.”

“We must prepare then.” Waller came to stand. “Hernan, may I have a word with you?”

Before Hernan could answer, Waller already headed to the door. It wasn’t a request, but a command. Hernan followed. He shut the door behind him and came to stand before her.

“That night at the ball, King Hamilton was gravely wounded. However, the markings of the wounds do not appear to be from the creature. I believe someone is trying to overthrow him.”

“And then come after you?”

Waller’s dark eyes gave nothing away, but her silence was palpable. Yes, they would come for her next.

“I trust that you will be fine. Whoever attacked King Hamilton did so while there was a large commotion. It will be harder to try a second time. Have Bekka stationed with you. I trust her the most,” Hernan said.

He didn’t feel comfortable leaving Kirk alone in his current state. If Kirk could transform into his bat self, then perhaps Hernan would have gone with Kirk in his pocket. But he couldn’t, and so Hernan intended to stay.

“I see,” Waller replied. Her look was that of disappointment, but she didn’t argue further. Rather she bid Hernan farewell and left.

Hernan in turned went to return to Kirk, yet when he reached for the handle, his hand stilled.

 _‘I must go to him,’_ Hernan thought. He felt his heart within his chest beat but thoughts in his mind quaked his outstretched hand. He had suspected Kirk to be part of this. He always had, but to hear it confirmed from the man himself, Hernan wasn’t sure what to think. He wanted to believe him. He wanted to comfort him, but was he being a fool if he did?

The door opened.

Kirk leaned heavily against the doorframe which moved Hernan to action, only for a pale hand to stop him.

“I saw the look in you.” Hernan stilled at Kirk’s words, yet those red eyes did not greet him. “Do you finally see why you should have left me behind?”

“Kirk—”

“Please, haven’t we done enough?” Kirk finally looked up at him. “It’s foolish to think we can do anything more than what has been done.”

“Then we are to do nothing?”

“No, Jeremy must be stopped, but beyond that… this, this should have never happened.”

“Do you truly believe that?”

Kirk moved to say something, but when no sound was produced, he averted his gaze.

“So the war may not be over. So we have another fight to face, but I don’t believe that means we cannot have peace, nor be together when the dust settles.” Hernan moved towards Kirk only for Kirk to move away.

“How can you still speak of us as being together? After what you know of me, how can you still love me? You cannot love who you do not know.”

“I only love who you’ve chosen to show me; I do not rush to seek any further, but rather enjoy the slow revealing of little things about you.”

“Even this?”

Hernan conceded. “I did not find it pleasant to know Jeremy has haunted you so, but I do not blame you for it. If my expression earlier worried you, it was not because I love you any less, but rather the anger I now hold over the Moxons for what they have done to you.”

“Please don’t. Your anger is unfounded. You still do not understand… the wrongs I have done… they cannot simply be forgiven, nor can they be loved.”

“Then I will help you make it right. Just say the words, and I will make it so.”

“This is not your fight but my own.”

“Will you not let me stay by your side at least?”

“And let you fall because of my sins? I’m afraid I am too fond of you to allow my past mistakes hurt you.”

“If I get hurt, so be it. Your wellbeing is well worth the sacrifice.”

“It’s not worth it to me!”

Hernan was taken back, his feet faltering. It was not only the words that stilled him, but it was the first time in a long time in which Kirk had raised his voice in such manner. Red eyes looked at him, glassy by unshed tears and the lips he had kissed over and over again were now but a broken smile.

“Kirk…” Hernan found himself moving – moved by the tears that threated to slide down Kirk’s cheek. Even as his hand came to gently wipe it away, Kirk weakly batted it away.

“No, Hernan. No.”

“Let me.” with his other hand, Hernan wiped away the tear only for Kirk to recoil from the touch. He moved back, but Hernan’s arms were quick to encircle him. Hernan was once willing to let Kirk go, but that was at a time when Kirk was strong enough to stand on his two feet. Now the man was weak in his hold, his knees giving in as Hernan kept him from falling.

He wouldn’t let Kirk fall. He had promised himself he wouldn’t. He had promised himself to be strong enough to hold him – to hold Kirk – to hold everything Kirk would let him bear.

“If you have my back, then let me have yours.”

Kirk weakly pushed against Hernan’s chest yet he buried his damp face in Hernan’s shoulder to shield it from his view. Hernan felt the wetness of his tears through his clothes all the same.

“Trust in me.” Hernan pleaded softly. “Please, Kirk, trust in us.”

Kirk shook his head, but he had stopped fighting. He had allowed Hernan to hold him. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move, but as the minutes passed, Hernan could feel the weight of him increase in his hold.

He took it all.

 He leaned down to lift Kirk up into his hold, and moved towards the bed. Kirk could fight him all he wanted, but he was still hurt. He still had stitches in his side. He needed rest. As Hernan came to lie him down and tuck him in, cool fingers bunched in the collar of his shirt.

Hernan caught the red rimmed eyes and understood.

_‘Don’t leave.’_

He carefully climbed beside him on the bed. He wasn’t going anywhere. Like stone, he wouldn’t be moved from Kirk’s side.

As he rested his head against the pillow, Kirk’s cool fingers framed his face. They felt along the edges of his jaw to the curve of his cheeks. When they came across his lips, Hernan’s own hand came to cover Kirk’s as he held it long enough to press a kiss to the cool palm.

 _‘I’m right here.’_ Hernan wanted to say, but then Kirk pulled his hand back and rested it against his chest. His red eyes closed, and his breathing slowed.

That was that. Hernan could say no more. Every fiber of his being strained to want to hold Kirk, to continue to tell him everything was going to be alright – that he would fix it. He would help him. But he knew it would fall upon deaf ears. Kirk would not hear him. All Hernan could do was wait, and hope Kirk would meet him halfway. He hoped Kirk would place his faith in him perhaps more than he ever had before.

_‘Trust me… please, trust me.’_

 

* * *

 

Hernan did not know when he had closed his eyes, but when they opened, Kirk was missing. Hernan immediately sat up. His hand smoothed over the wrinkles in the sheets, and the spot where Kirk had been was cold.

He was gone.

His fingers bunched in the sheets, threatening to tear, but they didn’t just as Hernan could not find the tears to fall from his eyes. Perhaps it was denial that kept his heart whole. Perhaps it was foolishness that made him stand. But whatever it was that moved him, he found himself at the balcony peering down at the front door wide open.

In the doorway stood a lone figure. Their back was to Hernan, but he knew that silhouette even on the blackest of nights. He knew the width of those shoulders, the length of legs he had admired from afar for many months, to the very curve of the instep of his soles.

Slowly, he made his way down the stairs. He paid no heed to crunch of broken glass beneath his feet, nor the creak of floorboards. His gaze remained forward, even when the person didn’t turn back to face him.

Hernan came to lean against the opposing pillar. He didn’t look over at the figure nor did he make a move to speak. Rather he turned his gaze towards the scene before him.

The forest once alive was nearly drained of color with tree limbs bare, and the leaves dry. The person beside him seemed unmoved by it all, even though the scene sent a chill through his bones.

Life around them was dying – coming to an end. Is that what Kirk saw too? Although they looked upon the same scene, they did not see the same thing. They did not look upon the world through the same lens; they saw a different sky, a different ground, a different distance of space between their bodies.

Hernan wanted to close the distance so that there was no question as to how far or close apart they were. He wanted to make it so they saw the same sky, felt the same touch, and walked the same ground, but his feet never moved nor were words produced.

Even as his lips moved to form words he did not know, no sound was made. His lips thinned. What could he say? Even if he were to wax poetry in his words of things decaying, of the leaves falling from the trees like the pieces of their life –  leaving the branches bare and reaching for what once was – was too histrionic. He knew, and perhaps that was what kept the words at bay.

He was a man – a creature of greed. He shouldn’t feel nor want in the way he did, but he did.

He did.

He did.

He did.

A cool hand brushed against his cheek, waking him from troubled thoughts. When red eyes filled with worry looked at him, he realized his cheeks were damp.

“I’ve already hurt you too much,” Kirk said softly.

Hernan leaned into the cool palm against his cheek. “It is not you.”

Kirk smiled. “Do you ever find fault in me?”

“I do not see the same faults you seem to see in yourself,” Hernan answered. “But that is not what moves me.”

“if not me then what?”

Hernan tried to will words, but his lips sealed tightly in a thin line as he shook his head. It was as if saying them, would make it come true.

Kirk sighed. “I’m sorry for it to have come to this.”

“It doesn’t have to. You can stay.”

“I want to, but I can’t,” Kirk said. “I… as long as Jeremy is out there, I cannot see a future past him.”

“Then we will stop him.”

The middle of Kirk’s smile broke, but the edges still curled despite himself. “Despite how much I wish you would not fight him, I know you will, with or without me. Therefore, I have made my mind to stay here.”

Hernan couldn’t help the small leap he felt his heart make at the claim that Kirk would stay. However, Kirk continued.

“We will fight him back, and if there is possibly a future beyond him, then we can talk speak of the future.”

“You will not stay with me even after all of this is over?”

“I fear I am undeserving of you.” Kirk averted his gaze. “If there is to be a future, I want to live to a day when I know the person who may stand beside you.”

Hernan nodded. Although he wanted to say Kirk could stay beside him, that he was not so underserving, but he knew it would fall upon deaf ears. If Kirk needed to leave him to find himself, then so be it. Hernan would not stop him. Although the thought ached him, he knew he could not make Kirk feel something he did not feel himself.

He moved his hand to cover Kirk’s before turning to kiss the inside of his cool palm.

“May that day be in our future.”

The small smile that curled Kirk’s lips was one of hope and Hernan found himself smiling back.


	14. Chapter 14

The Next few days were quiet. Hernan continued to take care of Kirk, but beyond aiding him in wrapping of bandages or cleaning his wounds, Hernan didn’t know how much he could touch Kirk, or rather would Kirk still find comfort in his touch.

Although his hands ached to feel Kirk’s hand in his, he restrained himself. His hands bunched in the sleeve of his shirt, fiddled with mindless documents and letters the Queen had sent him, or simply flipped through pages of a book. As long as his hands were busy with something, they would not ache for Kirk.

He was wrong.

Even so, he remained by Kirk’s side. Neither spoke a word to each other. Kirk had an excuse however. The day he first woke up, it was too fast. It was too much movement for one day that he soon fell ill. Hernan on the other hand… he had no excuse for what stilled his words.

 “What are you reading?” Kirk ventured to ask him one night. He had not been up for long. Hernan was quick to tend to his needs before reaching for his book once more.

“A collection of poems.” Hernan sat down. “Should I read them to you?”

“I would like that,” Kirk confessed as he slowly made to sit up.

Hernan nodded and began to read.

He did not think about the poem he read nor how it sounded when it rolled off his tongue. He simply read aloud, and when he looked up again, Kirk was fast asleep. He supposed the poems weren’t very interesting.

He went to close the book when he caught the title of the page: The Relic. He had not known the poem well, nor had he given it much thought before, but as he thought about it further, about what Kirk had said to him, he wondered whether people would ever know who they were or what they were to each other. And even if there were nothing but a pile of bones with a lock of hair around their wrist, it would never capture who Kirk was nor who he was to him.

 _‘I wish you could see through my eyes of how lovely you are.’_ Hernan’s hand brushed the dark hair back from Kirk’s forehead as he pressed a kiss to his temple.

His hand had moved. He had touched Kirk in a way he hadn’t for days. It was a slip. It was a moment of weakness for he was quick to withdraw himself only to feel cool hands stop him. He stilled at the feeling of cool fingers coming to encircle around his wrist, holding him like the lock of hair around the wrist of a man who people only thought of being a man who loved.

The hand ran up his arm to his shoulder where a thumb pressed down upon his collarbone. Cool fingers ran along the ridge before they splayed across the expanse of his neck.

Hernan felt himself leaning into the touch. He felt his arms slowly grow weak, as those fingers coaxed him closer. He felt himself torn between the sweetness of Kirk’s touch, and yet the bitterness of knowing this feeling was ephemeral. This moment was only going to be a moment.

He wanted to be strong. He wanted to be understanding, and perhaps the reason why he hadn’t touched Kirk was because he was hurt. He was angry and guilty all at once, but the way Kirk’s thumb ran along his bottom lip made his heart jump and his thoughts still.

 _‘What do you want?’_ Hernan descended further into Kirk’s hold. _‘Please tell me what you want me to do.’_

“Hernan,” Kirk spoke softly. Hernan was close enough to feel Kirk’s breath against his cheek.

“Hernan,” Kirk said again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but just for tonight, please let me be a little selfish.”

Cool lips pressed against his, and Hernan didn’t have the heart to pull away. Rather his heart thrummed within his chest and leapt at the hand which rested against it.

“Kirk,” Hernan called out to him as he came to cover the hand over his heart. _‘I am yours.’_

Despite all reason, the hurt, the anger, what moved him was Kirk, and if this moment was going to be their last, then Hernan would make the most of it.

He melted into the hands which held him, and pressed his lips against features he knew by kiss-length. His hand moved to outline the bones of Kirk’s ribs in which he felt the heart beneath it beat in a rhythm akin to his own. He only wished Kirk’s heart could beat because of him.

Selfish. Greedy. Hernan knew, but tonight, tonight he would allow himself to believe it so. Tonight, he would let himself believe, Kirk was his.

When morning came, the sun was hidden behind dark clouds. Hernan wondered if the skies were lengthening the night for him to continue this illusion he had wrought. As if in answer, cool fingers interlaced with his.

So be it.

Thunder rattled outside their windows as Hernan unwound the bandages. The wounds had healed. He removed the remaining stitches and went to toss them away. Kirk all the while had remained still. He didn’t flinch nor make a pained sound. He simply let Hernan be.

Neither spoke of what had happened last night.

It drove Hernan mad.

“I’m going to take a walk,” Hernan finally said. Now that Kirk was better, he no longer needed to sit at his bedside. Staying in one room for many days was starting to make him feel claustrophobic. The look Kirk gave him was that of disbelief, but he didn’t move to stop him.

Hernan had closed the door behind him, and that was the end of that. His feet still crunched upon broken glass as he made his way down the stairs and out the door. He had yet to clean up the mess, and he was sure Waller had cautioned the servant she usually sent to look after him. Therefore, his home was still in ruins, but it didn’t make a difference to him. This wasn’t really home to him. This manor, this place, this country, none of it was his.

He walked through the cold rain. The dead leaves were too wet to crumble beneath his heel as he kept his gaze down. He didn’t have the heart to look up at the bare branches trembling in the cold wind.

He walked until his feet came to the edge of the lake. The lake… he had come to form fond memories here. As he leaned down and placed a flat stone in his palm, a wistful smile crossed his features.

The stone was cold, the rain was cold, the air was cold – everything was cold but the memories that dared to replay in his mind.

He remembered rowing to the middle of the lake. Kirk with his finger outlined the full moon reflected in the surface of the water. It looked so small it could fit in the palm of his hand, and yet its size illuminated them both in the dark.

Kirk had looked at him. A small smile curled the corners of his lips and those red eyes gleamed with a secret. Hernan couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to.

“You’re staring.” Kirk’s hand that was only moments before outlining the moon, swiftly came up to splash cold water into Hernan’s face.

Hernan was quick to retaliate with a force that tipped the boat over. The memory of them soaking wet and Kirk laughing but cursing him at the same time… it was that night Hernan had said he loved him.

He did.

The feeling was liberating then, but now… his hand clenched tightly around the flat stone. He wanted to hurl it, but some things are hard to let go. Some things he just couldn’t let go. No matter how much he should, no matter how much it hurt, his hand tightened around the stone.

_‘Fool.’_

The thunder roared above him.

_‘Let it be done. Let it be over… let it go.’_

He took a step back and wound his arm back ready to toss it as far as he could.

“That’s not how you skip a rock.”

His hand faltered.

A warm coat was draped around his shoulders. Hernan’s hand fell to his side as he looked beside him, and there was Kirk. His dark hair was soaked. Dark strands stuck to his skin like the night they had flipped the boat. He was soaking wet, and yet he seemed unmoved by the cold.

Rather his red eyes looked at him with an expression Hernan could not read. It wasn’t warm nor was it cold. Instead it was seeing something Hernan couldn’t see himself.

His hand came to carefully wipe at Hernan’s cheek. Whether it was a stray tear or a drop of rain, Hernan couldn’t say.

“You’ll catch a cold,” Kirk calmly said.

He wouldn’t. Hernan has never caught cold from the rain, but he found Kirk’s hand in his, and Kirk guided him back to the house.

His hand still held the stone.

When they returned, Kirk toweled dried his hair and laid out some dry clothes for Hernan to change into. He then had pulled back the blankets, and guided Hernan to bed to lie him down.

“Rest. You haven’t slept for days,” Kirk spoke softly.

Like Hernan had done for him, Kirk tucked him in and took the post beside the bed Hernan once took. Hernan didn’t have the heart to disagree. As soon as his back had hit the sheets, he felt himself sink into the mattress.

Kirk was right. He hadn’t slept in quite some time, and before he knew it, his eyes fell closed.

 

* * *

 

“What have we of weaponry?”

“We have almost two thousand swords made of only silver,” Waller reported. “It seems combining it with any other metal does not work.”

Her dark eyes casted over to Kirk who had silently been standing by the fireplace. He nodded in agreement since Waller, despite Hernan’s protest, continued to experiment her arsenal on Kirk.

“What can we do about the air battle?” Hernan asked. “It’s unfortunate we’re no longer in the times where archers were more valued.”

“Although gun powder does not hurt them, it does stall them. We will have to make do with that.” Waller rose before her desk in which she laid out a map of her lands. “The Moxon residence is closest to our western borders. There is no feasible way for Moxon to hold up an entire army of his monsters alone.

“If Lord Chill is working with him, then his residence is closer to our northern border. We must be prepared on both fronts.”

She placed markers on both spots of the map. “You will be stationed closest to the western border. The young Moxon strikes me as prideful. He will most likely hold the most of them if not all of them. I want you, Hernan, to take the air battle. Make sure you fight between the towns. I don’t want more people than necessary to see your wings.”

“Understood, your Highness.”

“I would like Kirk with you as well.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Kirk respectfully bowed his head.

“Depending on the numbers, you may be overwhelmed. Even so, the target is not to kill them, it’s to clip their wings. Our forces cannot take an air battle, but a ground battle, we might just have a fighting chance.”

“Even when the snow comes?” Hernan questioned.

“Even then.” Waller sighed as she looked over the map once more. “That is most likely what Moxon is waiting for. It’ll be harder for us to mobilize our troops once the snow comes. His bats can fly and thus unhindered.”

“Not to mention it is harder to move in the snow unless compact, and even then, it will not bear the weight of the men.”

“What do you suggest?”

“We must corral them in a space which we have kept the levels of snow low or clear altogether,” Hernan said. “I will try to control the air space, but I cannot lure them to you directly.”

“Perhaps you won’t need to,” Kirk interjected for the first time since the meeting began. “Jeremy is of a single mind. Once he has an objective everything else is inconsequential. He will order his bats one thing: to take the crown.”

“So you wish me to stand on the battle field?” Waller more so stated than asked.

“Jeremy never really did care for pawns in a game of chess. He will go after you first.”

“Then let him come.”

Hernan and Kirk were dismissed.

They walked side by side each other through the snow laden path. It was not deep, but give it another few hours, and it will be too much for wheels to travel upon.

Kirk’s dark hood was drawn as to obscure his features, but Hernan could make out the red frost-bitten nose. He unwrapped his red scarf and went to wrap it around Kirk. Kirk didn’t fight him. He mumbled a small thank you and buried his nose in the soft fabric.

This was the extent of what they had become. They showed small moments of caring, of affection as Kirk’s shoulder seemed to brush against his every few steps, but their hands remained in their pockets.

Kirk no longer slept in his bed. He no longer slipped into his baths, or even wrapped his arms around him when his back was turned. He had become distant like Hernan knew he would, and yet his thumb still ran over the smooth skipping stone.

Hernan flew them to a small town near the western border. It was close to where Hernan had first found Kirk, but neither mentioned it. He made his way through the snow to a small inn.

“One room, please,” Hernan requested. He could not request two since Kirk was tucked in his pocket in bat form.

“Our last room,” the innkeeper noted. She handed Hernan the key and Hernan thanked her. Once in the small room, Hernan reached into his pocket to help Kirk out of it. The bat squeaked and its wings clamored at his prying fingers.

Hernan couldn’t help the small chuckle that passed him.

Kirk was quick to transform again.

“Your cloak.” Hernan held out the small garment for Kirk to take. Kirk thanked him and slipped it over his shoulders. When Hernan set down their small bag, Kirk retrieved a shirt and pants to slip on beneath the cloak. He no longer changed openly in front of Hernan.

Hernan turned away to give him some privacy.

“You can take the bed. I’ll take first watch.” Hernan removed his coat and went to take a seat beside the window of the inn.

“Can you see from here?” Kirk asked.

“No, but I can hopefully hear them.”

Kirk nodded and went to sit upon the bed, but he didn’t lie down. Instead those red eyes peered outside the same window Hernan stood beside.

Snow had started to fall again. The flakes were large as it fell in clumps. They would be getting a considerable amount overnight, they both assumed. Therefore, Jeremy could attack at any moment.

Kirk’s pale hands bunched in the dark fabric of his cloak. Hernan took notice.

“Are you hungry?” he ventured to ask. He went to roll up his sleeve since Kirk no longer fed from the side of his neck or the inside of his thigh.

It was funny. Hernan had never thought of Kirk feeding from him as being an intimate act. He had only seen it as a necessity, but since Kirk had moved from his wrist to other parts of his body, Hernan saw those cool lips pressed against his skin in any way as a welcomed touch.

To his surprise, Kirk nodded. He shifted to the side of the bed closest to Hernan. Those red eyes looked at him from bended knees, as Hernan followed the slow bob of Kirk’s Adam’s apple in anticipation.

It was biological, Hernan told himself. It wasn’t desire for him. Nonetheless, he offered his wrist for Kirk to take.

The moment the fangs pierced his skin always made his heart jump at the small pinch. There was a sudden instance of pain before it receded by the warm tongue which ran across the puncture wound. Cool lips pressed against his skin yet he was warmed by the heat of Kirk’s mouth or perhaps that was the heat of his own blood. He was never quite sure.

Even so, this wasn’t an act of intimacy. It wasn’t an act of affection but of necessity, Hernan told himself. Even when cool fingers came to wrap around his hip, it was only for Kirk to steady himself. But then the hand upon his hip drew him closer. Hernan’s feet followed in time so he was close enough for the hand on his hip to move farther back. They slid from his hip to the small of his back. The fingers splayed across his middle as if covering as much of him as they could.

The lips around his wrist unlatched only for Kirk to lick the small trail of blood that dared to roll down to his palm. Then, as Hernan thought Kirk would pull away altogether, a gentle kiss was pressed against the inside of his wrist, and then another to his palm before Kirk came to press his cheek against it.

Hernan felt his pulse jump and the sides of his lips wanting to curl. His hand which Kirk held captive, came to rub along the cheekbone as his fingertips curled along the base of his skull. He felt small in his hand, fragile as the pulse he felt beneath his fingertips.

 _‘Be strong.’_ Hernan wanted to say. They both had been up to this point. Now was not the time to fall weak.

Instead Hernan reached into his pocket which held the skipping stone. Red eyes were upon him as they watched him press a kiss to the flat surface before he reached behind him to slip it into Kirk’s hand.

Kirk took it. Their fingers overlapped over each other with the stone underneath.

 _‘Soon this will be over.’_ Hernan leaned down to press a kiss to Kirk’s cheek. _‘Just wait a little longer.’_

As if Kirk could hear him, he nodded his head, and slowly let go of him. However, his fingers still curled around the skipping stone and held it tightly.

When freed, Hernan turned back to the window. His wrist felt cold and bare, and his back still tingled at the fingers that once pressed against it.

Soon. He had to tell himself. Once this fight was over, once Kirk went to find himself, perhaps then, Hernan could find peace. And then… then the future held no bounds. Anything could happen. But he had let go of the stone, the memory of the lake, the vision of Kirk beneath the moonlight, in the hopes that if it ever returned in his hand, it would be Kirk who gave it to him.

The clocks struck midnight and that was when he heard it: a bloody screech in the dark.

Screams filled the square and the bell tolled.

When Hernan turned to wake Kirk, Kirk was already up.

“It’s time,” Hernan told him.

Kirk nodded. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: The poem referenced in this chapter is "The Relic" by John Donne.


	15. Chapter 15

The streets were quiet as they slipped out into the night. The town had yet to know what trouble awaited them as the neighboring village’s bells tolled. Hernan could hear their screaming as he wondered if Kirk could too. Or perhaps it was the faint screeching of the bats he heard that made his heart pound.

Nonetheless, Hernan wasted no time in picking Kirk up in his hold and taking off into the air.

“Stay close to me,” Hernan said as they could see the black plumes of smoke rising from the treetops.

Pale ghostly bodies rose from the ashes. Their wings were skeleton like by the thinness of them, and their eyes hauntingly murky.

“Brace yourself.” When Hernan got close enough, he let Kirk go.

He didn’t like the idea at first, but Kirk had assured him he was fine. As promised, he landed on top of the flying creature, and his claws ripped through the paper-thin wings. The creature gave a blood curdling screech as he tumbled through the air. Kirk transformed before they could hit the ground. He was fine.

Hernan in turn, slipped through the swarm with silver blades drawn. He sliced through their wings while dodging those who retaliated. His skin hardened in bright red scales, but like Kirk, their claws teared through them as if it were human skin.

 _‘The wings. Aim for the wings,’_ he told himself. The faster he got through the wings, the less would claw him through the air. His movements were swift, faster than the naked eye could comprehend, but there were many of them. As soon as he cut through one, a second, a third, and a fourth would appear from all directions.

He swooped down and the swarm followed. Every twist and turn he made, a number of them were right behind him with other groups coming at him from all sides. He could hardly move.

“Right behind you.”

Hernan looked up to see one of the beasts scream. Blood splattered across the creature’s pale skin and those beside him. It was hard to tell which one was wounded and which was not. What Hernan could see were a flash of red eyes. Kirk moved swiftly from one to the other. When the distance between one was too great, he transformed into a bloodied white bat, before transforming once more to slice his claws through the winged creatures.

But Hernan couldn’t look for long. More flew at him with jaws snapping and claws outstretched. He was swift to dodge them with a great flap of his wings. With the blade in his hand, he sliced through the side and the beast fell like a stone.

Numbers of them were falling from the sky, bloodying the snow underneath. Some flew a short distance before collapsing on top of a barn, skidding across pastures, and colliding into small homes.

“Hernan, they’re getting closer to the town,” Kirk called out to him.

“I know, but we have to ground as many as we can or else we’ll be overwhelmed altogether.” Kirk didn’t seem pleased, but there was little they could do. It was just the two of them against a thousand of flying man-bats.

They screeched and screamed as they swooped through the air. Some tried to fly right past Hernan as if set on an objective while others went right for him. He tried to slice as he moved, but every move he made he seemed to collide into another flying creature.

Kirk was trying his best as well, but there were just so many of them. Every second, Kirk seemed to get further and further away from him, as they were both pushed and shoved this way and that.

Hernan grit his teeth as he grabbed a hold of one and tossed it to collide with another. Whatever he did, more came. It seemed endless and his efforts futile.

They clawed at his back, pulled at his legs, and tugged his wings. He would twist from their hold, but not without feeling a burn running up his skin where a gash opened up. And for the first time, in what seemed like centuries, Hernan wasn’t sure what was his blood and what was theirs.

He continued nonetheless, allowing his body to take over his mind. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, and numbed the pain. It willed his body to move on its own accord through the winged mass of creatures, leaving blood in his wake.

He was the son of ash and smoke – of the dying embers of a fire. He was the last cry before the darkness as he lived through the impossible. This should be no different. They could tear through his scales, but he would slice through them faster, and he did.

He moved until there was nothing in the sky but him – the ruler of the sky and all that it touched.

A small screech sounded beside him, and Hernan was reminded he was not alone in the sky. Kirk had stayed beside him all the while.

The air battle was over. Now they had to continue the battle on the foot. Hernan had hit the ground with Kirk beside him.

He shouldered off his ripped dark coat to hand it to Kirk. “Here.”

Kirk looked down at the ripped black material with a small smile. “Of all times to worry about my modesty—”

“It’s cold,” Hernan interjected. “Put it on.”

“Hernan, you’re all…” Kirk never finished his thought, but Hernan knew what he was referring to by the sudden loss of mirth in his tone. With the removal of his torn coat, he bared the numerous lacerations that covered his arms, torso, and back.

“They’ll heal.” Hernan promised. Give it a little time, and the wounds would begin to repair themselves. He was a god of war. He wouldn’t be brought down so easily.

As if to prove he was fine, Hernan continued forward, forging a bloody path in his wake. Kirk was not far behind.

The creatures were fast despite their wounds. Their broken wings hung limply from their backs. Some of them even had one or both wings completely severed from their spine. Even so, they sprinted through the snow on all fours like wolves with bloodied fur.

Hernan was swift to catch up with them. He cut through their backline, causing bloody screams to resound through the woods. Even so, those towards the front never turned back. It was as Kirk said. They were single minded in their pursuit.

Only few turned back to face him. Their claws elongated and their jowls curled back to reveal long fangs.

 _‘Bit me,’_ Hernan thought. Although his chest heaved and his wounds burned, he felt anger boil within him. He was frustrated, furious at these winged creatures.

He had peace. He had won the war. He had won countless wars. He was done, it was supposed to be done, but then they had to come. They had to fly into this mess for what?

Hernan’s jaw clenched as searing pain scorched up his back. Without looking, he swiftly drew his blade back, and felt it sink into a cold body. These creatures, they were instruments of someone’s greed. They were puppets to a war that was not there’s.

_‘Enough!’_

Greed, the passion that drove men to war. This was an instrument of a man. A single man who did not care if the river ran red, as long as he owned it. And Hernan could cut him down, but like a hydra, three more would take his place. Then another war would break lose, and Hernan would fight.

Fight for what? For peace? There could never be peace. He was a fool to think so – a fool to dream, but then his blood ran cold at a sudden cry.

“Kirk!”

All his rancor for humanity suddenly vanished. Kirk. The one who made him dare to hope, to dream again of peace – he moved. Through all the pain, through all the claws that ran through him in his wake, he moved.

Nothing stopped him. No one stopped him. He was a monster, a god yet to be brought to his knees. Yet on his knees did he find himself with wings shielding the both of them as he held Kirk to his bloodied body.

“Kirk!”

“H-Hernan!”

Hernan felt it before he could discern what had happened. Kirk’s red eyes widened in sudden horror.

“Impressive.” a voice dared to mock.

Hernan furled his wings back to reveal who he thought was a man – a man he had cursed for everything, but who or what stood before him was no man.

“You will have to try harder if you wish to hurt me, Moxon.”

“Silver may not penetrate your scales, but it does not seem like it needs to.” red eyes held a hunger in them – one Hernan had not seen in some time. It was not a lust for life but a desire to end it. It was a desire to destroy everything that would dare cross their path.

“My, I heard the rumors, but seeing you… You are quite a marvelous creature.” Jeremy laughed as large pale wings akin to a bat’s rose high above his head.

 _‘_ _Dios mío_ _.’_ he was one of them. He had changed himself – half man, half bat.

“But sadly, I am not here for you.” red eyes narrowed dangerously upon Kirk. “My monsters, take care of the dragon.”

As if his command were the words of god, the creatures turned back. They no longer headed towards the capital but they lunged for Hernan. They pulled, yanked, and tore at his wings. Hernan felt it. He felt the burn sear through his body, but even as he felt himself torn apart, his grip on Kirk remained.

In turn, he felt Kirk move – heard him growl in his ears at the winged creatures who dared to attack them, but it was no use. His grip slipped, and Kirk was pulled from him.  

“Kirk!” he tried to reach for him.

Every part of him screamed by the desperate movement. His wings, his body, the air from his lungs felt torn from him – taken from him, twisted him as if those cruel hands were fate herself. He had cheated death for far too long. He had taken too many lives, had killed too many people to be allowed to breathe another breath.

_‘Not yet.’_

The god fell to his knees.

_‘Not like this.’_

The ruler of the skies felt weighted to the ground.

_‘I cannot leave him like this.’_

His broken wings dropped as he bowed his head.

“Hernan!”

With the last of his strength, the man steeled himself. _‘Kirk… I won’t let you fall.’_

Kirk felt his back slam against a tree, but before he could react, Jeremy was on him. The blade skidded off the bark as Kirk had swiftly dodged.

“You always were slippery.” Jeremy mocked, but his bitter words never reached Kirk. He was too busy trying to look for Hernan, trying to see if he was okay. Jeremy seethed.

“Look at me!”

Kirk screamed. Pale fingers grappled at the hooked claw at the end of Jeremy’s wing that pierced through his shoulder. With a yank, Kirk was dragged by the shoulder like a fish at the end of a hook.

Red eyes glared back at him. They were red like his, and yet they were nothing like his. His red… his eyes he once found so hideous, Hernan had loved. They were the red of roses. They were the red of gems and precious stones kings fought over. They were the red of fire, of life, of love. There was nothing monstrous about them, and yet the red that stared back at him were that of a monster.

“Do you know how much I’ve thought of this?” Jeremy’s clawed fingers wrapped tightly around his throat. “To see you writhe in pain beneath me – breathless like the wretched whore you are.”

Kirk struggled to claw Jeremy’s hands from his throat, but even as he scratched the pale skin, Jeremy’s hold remained unyielding. Instead it tightened, pulling him up only to be slammed against the ground once more. Whatever breath Kirk might have had left, he felt knocked out of him.

Jeremy laughed. “Pathetic. Weak. Even after you tossed me over the cliff, you’re quick to latch onto another like a wretched leech.”

The constricting hand released him, but the claw in his shoulder made to lift him up, pulling a pained scream with it.

Kirk choked. His lungs couldn’t get enough air. Every gasp came with shuttering pain from his bruised throat, yet the pain in his shoulder remained an ever present constant. So much so, his mind scrambled on what to focus on first: his breathing or releasing his shoulder from Jeremy’s hold.

Even as he struggled to free himself, his eyes wandered back to the spot where he last saw Hernan. He was gone. All he could see was a bloody trail in the snow.

“Look at me!” Jeremy yelled once more.

A scream sounded, followed by another, and then another, but it wasn’t Kirk who screamed. Jeremy looked back, and his wings dropping in shock.

The trees behind him were ablaze, as one scream turned into a cacophony of pained wailing. From the smoke fell limply before him one of his very own. It’s leather-like wings once pale were crisped black, as its fur was still on fire.

Jeremy fumed at the sight. “You will—”

His words were abruptly cut off. Red monstrous eyes looked down at the bloodied sword that pierced through his gut. His pale hands sliced themselves across the blade as if trying to dislodge it, but the damage was done.

“I won’t do anything.” the sword sunk deeper still until he felt the very hilt press against his back. “But finish what I started.”

The sword jerked up higher until Kirk felt bone. With a twist of the blade and one swift movement, Jeremy’s side was split open, and the sword released.

Kirk let the bloodied weapon fall from his hands, and rushed forward. He didn’t watch the final flickering of Jeremy’s eyes. He didn’t mutilate the body further from all the anger and resentment he once held against the man. No, he ran through the smoke clutching his bloodied shoulder.

Hernan. He had to get to Hernan.

That was all he could think about. Even as Jeremy had choked him, and he was held up suspended over the air by his pierced shoulder, as soon as Jeremy had let his wings fall, Kirk had freed himself from his hold. He scrambled for the weapon Jeremy had dropped earlier, and with little remorse killed him where he stood. All the while, he did this with knowing he had to get to Hernan.

He followed the blood trail through the snow, but even that seemed futile. Everywhere he looked was red. The burning of the trees, the last flailing of the winged creatures as they burned up in smoke in front of him, the blood… so much blood, it looked as though it was white against red rather than red against white.

“H-Hernan!” he choked. With his neck bruised it still hurt to breath, let alone yell. “Hern-an!

“K-Kir...”

It was faint, but he heard it. He rushed towards it. Forgetting about his shoulder, his lungs, his neck, Jeremy, he rushed to him. He rushed to be by Hernan’s side.

“Hernan!” he ran through the smoke. His eyes started to burn as his lungs felt suffocated. The heat was starting to make his cold body sweat, and his head dizzy.

“Kir…”

Kirk turned and there at what looked like the eye of the fire storm laid a crumpled mass. Kirk rushed to him, and fell to his knees as those blue eyes met his.

“Kirk…”

“I’m here.” his pale hands trembled over Hernan’s bloodied face. “Everything’s going to be alright, okay? I’m here. I’m right here.”

Kirk looked down at Hernan’s torn body. His scales Kirk thought were beautiful under candlelight now looked like shredded clumps mixed with human flesh and muscle. Kirk could see the white of Hernan’s bones, and the ropes of intestines peeking through. His once huge wings looked like frayed pieces of cloth and nearly entirely ripped from his shoulders.

He wasn’t going to be okay. Hernan knew that, and yet Kirk… Hernan struggled to move. He struggled to speak. The frustration showed in the wateriness of eyes and the jagged brokenness of his bloodied lips.

He wanted to hold him. He wanted to tell him all would be alright. This was not his fault. None of this was his fault. He wanted to tell him how much he loved him. How unhappy he was for a very long time, and those few months – almost a year, was the happiest he had been for what felt like centuries.

Kirk gave him hope to dream again. He gave him a reason to want peace, to want to live happily, and to live with only love.

 _‘Kirk…’_ those cool fingers brushed against his cheek, like a calming breeze during a hot summer day. He loved those hands. He loved the coolness of Kirk’s skin. He remembered how he was always quick to divest the man of his clothing just so he could feel that calming coolness in the summer haze.

How he wished he could go back to that. How he wished he could have…

A convulsion ripped through him as those cool hands moved to stabilize, to calm him, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t.

 _‘Kirk… a beauty in the moonlight.’_ Hernan’s gaze remained on worried features – features he knew by kiss length. _‘I wish I could see you under the moon one last time.’_

“H-Hernan…” Kirk called out to him. “Hernan!”

Kirk’s hands desperately moved to hold Hernan’s face. “Stay with me, Hernan. Hernan! Hernan, pl-please! Hernan!”

Kirk begged, but no matter what he did, those eyes… the light had left them.

He was gone.

Gone.

Gone.

Gone.

G—

Kirk screamed. It was a hoarse cry that soon became devoid of all sound, but not of the pain – the hurt that wracked through his quaking shoulders, and ached in the trembling of his hands. He needed to hold something. To grab some part of him, but he was so broken, so destroyed because of him, because he had created the monsters. He had let Jeremy take his blood, and now he had taken Hernan too.

_‘Idiot!’_

He had told Hernan not to. He had told him to not face Jeremy, but Hernan did. Kirk knew he would. All the stars in the world wouldn’t stop Hernan from facing Jeremy. Even as Kirk looked up, the sky was too dark. Not a moon nor star in sight but only a billowing of ominous black from the smoke and ash which swept through the trees.

_‘I never wanted to leave you; I never wanted to say goodbye.’_

Kirk never wanted to leave. He never wanted to leave Hernan. He had just felt so lost – so afraid that he did not know how to be alone anymore. He didn’t know how to be himself anymore. He didn’t know if who Hernan loved was him…

Although Hernan had assured him, had kissed every part he cursed of himself, Kirk still wondered – still feared the person Hernan loved was not him, but someone Hernan made him to be. But if Hernan made Kirk the arms he felt comfort in, if he made Kirk the person he wished to be with, then Kirk wanted nothing more than to hold him. Even as he came to cradle Hernan’s face between his cool hands, the skin had long grown cold and those eyes closed in what Kirk hoped was peaceful slumber at long last.

_‘Good…’_

Kirk couldn’t bring himself to finish the words. He couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought of Hernan gone. Rather his name fell from his lips. It was a broken cry of futile hope. He called to him with each one sounding more desperate than the last until it was no longer a name but a garbled mesh of noise – a prayer in another language even he did not know.

Still, Hernan below him remained silent and still, as did the world around them. The barren trees burned black, and the skies were grey in ash. It seemed as if all the world had lost its color. All the world had mourned a fallen god, a monster people feared, a man people called a hero.

Gone.

Kirk did not know how much time had passed. He had not looked at the shifting of the light – from dawn into dusk – from darkness into light. He hadn’t moved from Hernan’s side. He didn’t even close his eyes for a moment of rest. He doubted any sleep would find him even if he tried.

The only movement he had made, was the weighted stone he felt in his pocket. The surface was smooth across his fingers. It was a skipping stone. Kirk didn’t know its meaning when Hernan had passed it to him. He remembered that night he had let Hernan teach him how to skip stones. He remembered the day he had found Hernan in the rain, ready to throttle a rock across the lake. Kirk didn’t know if that was his first, or if Kirk had never stopped him, would the entire beach be devoid of stones once Hernan was done.

No matter the meaning, it was important to him, and thus important to Kirk. He would have kept it. Even if he had decided to follow through with his plans to leave to find himself, he would have taken it with him. And perhaps Hernan had known that. Perhaps he had it a token, a reminder of that lake, of the place they had made home – that no matter how far he went, no matter how far he traveled, he could always return to him.

But he couldn’t. Not anymore, as he slipped the stone beneath lifeless fingers.

“This way!”

Kirk looked up at the sound of footsteps approaching. Instinctively, he moved in front of Hernan’s body, shielding him from whatever was coming. The footsteps became louder. It was not one, but many, as the sound of growling dogs heightened his beating heart.

“Over here! Over here!”

“Go get him!”

“He went that way! Through the trees!”

The sudden sound of a branch snapping averted his gaze to the side where there lunged a creature with one pale wing and a scorched body. One had lived.

Kirk’s instincts told him to go after it, but before he could move, the sound of muffled gasps and screams of horror drew his attention to what he had feared more than that beast.

“What is that thing?!”

“It’s one of them!”

“Kill it!”

Kirk bared his fangs and his claws elongated. They circled him. There were seventeen of them of various size and age, but Kirk pinpointed who he had to fear by the look in their eyes.

“What is this—”

Kirk snapped. He had lunged at the makeshift club, and snatched it from the man’s hands. The sudden movement caused him to fall back cursing in fear as several of his friends moved in front of him to shield him from Kirk lunging after him again.

“Don’t touch him.” Kirk growled lowly at the man who tried to poke at Hernan’s broken wings. He turned to all of them snarling. “No one touch him.”

“You mean this demon?” the man huffed, but before he could kick at Hernan’s feet, Kirk had pounced on him. His fangs tore at his throat even as the other men above him tried to tear Kirk off. They struck him with their clubs and tried to pierce him with their blunt tools, but nothing seemed to work but sheer force of several hands grabbing at him.

Kirk fought back. He struggled against their hold, and snapped at whatever he could reach until he could free himself.

_‘Hernan.’_

He had to get back to Hernan. He had to protect him from them, but as soon as he saw him lying a few feet away motionless, something was thrown over his head. He struggled to breath as he couldn’t bite his way through, nor could he see through the thick material.

His heart raced as all he could feel were hands grabbing him, holding him down, and tugging him this way and that. He couldn’t focus on what they were saying nor what they were doing. Fear overtook him as did exhaustion from the days without sleep nor food. He was too weak to continue fighting. He wasn’t strong enough to continue on.

He was pathetic.

Still his feet kicked out, and his claws latched to what they could as he felt himself dragged. He was being pulled away from Hernan. Oh god. What were they going to do to Hernan’s body? They couldn’t harm him. They couldn’t touch him. He was supposed to protect him. He was supposed to have his back, but all he could do was weakly struggle against their hold as they dragged him somewhere he didn’t know.

Even as his heart pounded, it was not his life he feared for, but the image of Hernan alone in the snow. Did they let the dogs get to him? Did they pull on his broken wings, break apart his scales, or chop off his claws as false trophies? The thought churned his stomach as he bit the inside of his cheek to hold the bile down.

He was brought to his knees with head his bent forward and body forced down. The force they used was not bruising, but it was hard to count how many hands were on him. Where one seemed to end another started.

“Have you any silver?” he heard a gruff voice above him.

“Are you mad? What is the meaning of this?!”

“It’s one of ‘em, Father. The Queen’s messenger said only silver can slay ‘em.”

“And?”

“Well we’ve gots no silver,” said another.

“You can’t be serious?”

“Look, Father, it’s a sin to lie, so I cannot lie to the Queen’s men that you’ve denied us silver, and left this monster to slaughter us all.”

There was a long pause before the person spoke again. “Very well, lay him there.”

Kirk felt himself being lifted to his feet. They badgered him as they handled him down onto his back. All the while he struggled in their hold. What he was laid upon was uneven, rough, and jagged.

Finally, they removed the material that was wrapped around his head as he was met with a blinding light. He hissed and snapped at them, even as they jeered at him.

“You’re gonna get it demon.”

“Just you wait.”

Kirk could see now seven were holding him down. Two at each limb and one gripping his shoulders, and had he been at his full strength, he could have thrown them off, but what use was there?

Instead he took in his surroundings. The pile he was on was of stones and broken beams. On either side of him lined wooden benches, some turned over by what looked like a scuffle. Before him, up high, was a broken stained glass image as the morning light streamed through them colors of blue and red. The sight of it calmed him for he knew that blue.

It was a clear dark blue like the night skies when illuminated by a moon. It was like the skies Hernan’s dark wings spanned across as Kirk flew to catch up with him. He’d chase him through the night – a white streak across the sky. When he did catch up, he’d cling to Hernan’s scaled claw, and feel the cool breeze ruffle through his fur and tickle his pointed ears. Hernan would laugh. He’d even try to rub under his chin, but Kirk bit the finger in warning, and Hernan would laugh even harder.

Kirk closed his eyes at the burning that started to prick at the back of them.

_‘I’m sorry I’ve failed you.’_

_‘You have never failed me.’_

_‘Hernan…’_

Kirk opened his eyes, and above him was a cross made in silver and gold. It rose high above him as a man dressed in black robes stood with a processional cross between his hands. The end of the staff was poised over his chest.

“May God have mercy upon your soul.”

He saw it as he felt it pierce through him. His whole body seized at the sudden pain. He struggled to free himself as he gasped for air he could not find.

_‘Hernan!’_

_‘I’m right here.’_

_‘Hernan!’_

_‘Kirk.’_

He felt a warm hand against his cheek as it wiped away the tears he had let fall, and soft words whispered in his ear.

_‘I’m right here.’_

_‘Stay with me.’_

_‘I’m right here.’_ his words soothed him. His touch calmed him, and where Kirk had felt the pain of the staff driven through him now only rested a warm hand. When his red eyes opened, he was met with familiar blue and a smile he thought he’d never see again.

Large, great wings spanned over them. The scarlet red was illuminated in iridescent rainbows between the overlapping scales, as they covered him – shielded him from the rest of the world.

 _‘Hernan.’_ Kirk felt himself shaking. He felt himself slipping, but there were warm hands reaching for him. He felt nothing else but the warmth of Hernan’s hold. Everything else faded away.

He felt warm.

He felt safe.

He felt salvation in the hands that held him, and peace bloom within the marrow of his bones.

 _‘Kirk.’_ his name was pressed against his skin like a prayer before chaste lips came to meet his.

 _‘Hernan.’_ Kirk felt himself let go. _‘Stay with me.’_

_‘I’m right here.’_

 

* * *

 

-Epilogue-

Some time had passed since that fateful night. Work went into repairing the villages that were affected, as well as the burning of the rest of the winged corpses they found in what was left of the wooded area.

The Queen assured her people that they were safe. The fact that they withstood such an attack shows the strength of their nation, and how blessed they were by God. She only meant half of it, but no one was none the wiser.

The peace treaties remained intact, and King Hamilton was restored to his kingdom safely. The House of Moxon and Chill were found guilty of treason, and all seemed right as life moved on.

“Welcome home, Bekka.”

“Steve.”

He came to greet her with a chaste kiss as his hands cradled the life she held in her. She in turn held his face between her hands. Her fingers ran over the subtle scar across his cheek as she remembered well that snowy cold night he got it.

“How is Elizabeth?”

“Hungry,” Steve simply answered.

“She hasn’t eaten yet?”

“No, I told her you were returning this evening, and she insisted we wait for you. She’s as stubborn as you are.” a smile crossed Bekka’s features, but she didn’t refute him. “How was Hernan?”

Her smile faltered for a moment, but returned with a wistful small quirk of lips. “He’s happy; I’m sure of it.” _‘Kirk is with him now.’_

It had been so long. It was five years since that cold winter night, when Hernan never returned at the end of the battle. She knew then something was wrong. A sense of dread had overtaken her as she imagined the worst, but no matter what her imagination procured, nothing could have prepared her for when she had finally found him fallen, broken, gone…

The Queen wanted to burn everything. No one was to know of Hernan’s true form, however Bekka had thrown her body over Hernan’s. She would not let Amanda burn him. After all he had done for her, for her country, he deserved at least a grave.

The Queen reluctantly allowed Bekka to bury him, but only if Bekka could prepare the grave herself by sunrise. With great difficulty, and the quaking of her shoulders, Bekka dug up a shallow grave in the middle of winter when the ground was frozen through. The heat from Hernan’s last fire seemed to have softened the ground a little but not by much.

Nonetheless, with what snow she could find, she had wiped the blood from his face, and wrapped his body in her own cloak.

By sunrise, Bekka had patted down the freshly covered dirt over his grave, and joined the Queen’s men in time to continue down the countryside. It was not long until they had found Kirk. However, Bekka didn’t have the strength to bury what was left of him. So, with a heavy heart, she watched the Queen set to fire the evidence of his existence. But when the flames died down, and the smoke was nothing but a thin wisp, she scooped what she could of his ashes into a small pouch.

The pouch weighed heavy in her pocket next to the stone she had found tucked beneath Hernan’s hand. She had promised herself she would return to Hernan’s grave soon so she could place Kirk beside him, but life caught up to her. She didn’t have time to mourn. She didn’t have time to visit Hernan’s grave for a month later, she had found herself married, and another couple of months, she learned of the child she carried within her. A year, and she was rocking her daughter in her arms.

Elizabeth was now four, and she had a second child on the way. Meanwhile Kirk’s ashes remained locked in a drawer, and the flat stone warm in her pocket. At times, she found herself holding it for comfort. She didn’t know what it meant nor why Hernan had it, but a part of her knew it was Kirk who slipped it beneath Hernan’s cold fingers.

Kirk… Bekka didn’t know him for long, nor as well as she would have liked to, but she knew him in the way Hernan had smiled. She knew him by the glint of Hernan’s blue eyes when he thought about him, and the look Hernan had sent Kirk when Kirk’s back was turned. Kirk in turn had glanced over at Hernan when he thought no one was looking, and Bekka saw it then, a feeling she was all too familiar with. He longed to be with him.

Before her waist could fully round, and movement all but impossible, she tucked the ashes in her pocket, and went to the grave she had made in the middle of the burnt forest. The trees were still charred black and their branches bare despite it being spring. However, the forest floor was covered in green of small bushes that would one day grow as tall as the trees before it.

The forest was healing.

It was not long until she found the grave. There was no headstone, but she had marked the tree she buried him under. When she found the mark, the tree she looked up at was full of life against a sea of black.

She was not one to believe in magic, even after having known a person such as Hernan, but perhaps this was his last trick up his sleeve. This was his last act of brilliance that took her breath away.

Upon the ground itself laid a bed of red flowers. Their eyes were black, but resilient did they stand, and wild did they grow.

_‘You never did lack theatrics.’_

Bekka knelt down and reached into her pocket where Kirk resided. The fabric felt warm in her hands, and the weight lifted as she poured the contents at the base of the tree. It was done. They were together again.

Not only did the bag feel light, but so did her heart and her conscious as she let everything go. She had not cried about Hernan since the night she buried him. After all, it was him who had told her to be strong, but even in her tears, she had never felt as powerful as she did then. Her power did not stem from her hiding her emotions, but rather from her love for him.

She loved him.  

She missed him.

She always would, but as the shadows grew longer, she knew it was time to go. As she made to stand, a small screech sounded above her. She looked up at wings of black, a pair of them. Above her circled two small bats, and for some reason, she then knew everything would be okay.

She returned home the next evening to the comforting embrace of her husband, and the gleeful laughter of her little girl. Everything was okay. Everything was peaceful. Everything was as it should be.

She tucked Elizabeth into bed, and the young girl held her doll closely to her chest as she asked. “Tell me a story.”

“A story, hm.” Bekka hummed thoughtfully before one came to mind. “Well there are many tales of where dragons come from. Some say they come from a faraway moon, ominously glowing with the life of eternal fire. Some say they are born from dying stars, or the heart of a volcano, but there is one myth that has yet to be revealed: a dragon born with the heart of a man who loved deeply and truly one vampire.”

“Do they live happily ever after?”

Innocent blue eyes, as blue as her own looked back at her, and Bekka smiled. “Yes, they are happy together in this life and the next for not even time can forbid a love such as theirs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new,  
> And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears.  
> The rose is sweetest with morning dew,  
> And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears.  
> -Sir Walter Scott, Lady of the Lake
> 
> Author's Note: So I started this story knowing this was a scene SDS wanted, and it was the part I worried most about when I began to outline the story. I really wanted to give them an honorable death, or one that genuinely hurt because of this journey you went through with Hernan, and I hope I did that. If you cried or even got a little teary eyed, know that I sobbed when writing this. I felt physically ill after I wrote Kirk mourning Hernan, so know I did not do this maliciously, but with great love for them, and great love for the beautiful art piece that this part was written for.
> 
> Nonetheless, despite the heartache, I hope you were able to enjoy this story and the wonderful art this story is based on. Thank you so much for reading, and coming along on this journey with me and SDSlanderson. I hope you take care!


	16. Arts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arts included in the fic in their original size

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel grateful and blessed working with @[ComposerofDiscord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComposerofDiscord/pseuds/ComposerofDiscord) on this ;w;  
> She does wonders beyond me minds and thoughts  
> Here's the art I scattered around in her fic...Im planning to make more because these cannot contain the rainbowsunshinesharpglassfeels i have after reading what she's accomplished  
> anyhow enjoy what I have so far in bigger size ;w;  
> \------  
> This is also the 100th entry under the tag Justice League Gods and Monsters =D

 

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l[arger resolution](https://hostr.co/file/970/ToIJZaIE8rxw/castle.jpg)

 

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[Large resolution](https://hostr.co/file/970/3npItYnKMxWY/HKsummer.jpg)

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[large resolution ](https://hostr.co/file/970/zOxsA5E0Nynw/HKwinter.jpg)

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-END?-


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